I 

1s 


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KEY  AND  BIDDLE, 

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IRISH  ELOQUENCE— The  Speeches  of  the  cele- 
brated Irish  Orators,  PHILLIPS,  CURRAN,  GRATTAN  ;  to 
which  is  added,  the  Powerful  Appeal  of  ROBERT  EM- 
MEI/T,  at  the  close  of  his  trial  for  high  treason.  In  1 
vol.  8vo. 

SINGER'S  OWN  BOOK.— A  well  selected  Collec- 
tion  of  the  most  Popular,  Sentimental,  Amatory,  Pa- 
triotic, Naval,  and  Comic  Songs.  Illustrated  with 
beautiful  Steel  Engravings. 

No  expense  has  been  spared  to  render  this  collection 
of  songs  every  way  superior  to  any  work  of  the  kind 
that  has  hitherto  been  presented  to  the  American  pub- 
lic. No  songs  have  been  admitted  that  do  not  claim  the 
title  of  merit,  either  in  composition  or  in  air. 

YOUNG  MAN'S  OWN  BOOK :  a  Manual  of  Po- 
liteness, Intellectual  Improvement,  and  Moral  Deport- 
ment, calculated  to  form  the  character  on  a  solid  basis, 
and  to  insure  respectability  and  success  in  life. 

YOUNG  LADY'S  OWN  BOOK:  a  Manual  of  In- 
tellectual Improvement  and  Moral  Deportment.  By 
the  Author  of  the  Young  Man's  Own  Book. 

THE  SOLDIER'SJBRIDE,  AND  OTHER  TALES. 
BY  JAMES  HALL,  Author  of lt  Legends  of  the  West,"  &,c. 

We  have  just  risen  from  the  perusal  of  the  Soldier's 
Bride.  The  impression  it  leaves  upon  the  mind  is  like 
that  which  we  receive  from  the  sight  of  a  landscape  of 
rural  beauty  and  repose — or  from  the  sound  of  rich 
and  sweet  melody.  Every  part  of  this  delightful  tale 
is  redolent  of  moral  and  natural  loveliness.  The  writer 
belongs  to  the  same  class  with  Irving  and  Paulding ; 
and  as  in  his  descriptions,  characters  and  incidents,  he 
never  loses  sight  of  the  true  and  legitimate  purpose  of 
fiction,  the  elevation  of  the  taste  and  moral  character  of 
his  readers,  he  will  contribute  his  full  share  to  the 
creation  of  sound  and  healthful  literature. 

THE  HUMOURIST'S  OWN  BOOK— A  collection 
of  the  latest  Anecdotes,  Bons  Mots,  Jests,  &c.,  from 
which  every  thing  has  been  excluded  which  is  unfit  for 
reading  at  the  Family  Fire  Side.  By  the  Author  of  the 
Young  Man's  Own  Book. 

Of  the  size  and  in  the  style  of  the  Young  Man's  Own 
Book. 


TALES  OF  MILITARY  LIFE,  Second  Series.— By 
the  Author  of  the  Subaltern. 

From  the  London  Literary  Gazette. — "  The  writer  of 
the  Subaltern  has  an  imagination  to  create,  as  well  as 
an  eye  to  see ;  he  flings  off  a  picture  with  equal  vivid- 
ness and  effect,  whether  it  be  the  mere  creation  of  his 
fancy,  or  painted  from  the  recollection  of  what  he  has 
seen  ;  on  the  whole,  the  work  will  greatly  add  to  the 
reputation  of  the  author.  The  companions  of  Bur- 
goyne  in  the  campaign  of  1777  (if  any  still  survive)  will 
recognise  in  the  tale  entitled  Sarotaga,  the  best,  per- 
haps the  only  readable  narrative  of  that  portion  of 
military  history." 

THE  LIVES  AND  EXPLOITS  OF  BANDITTI  AND  ROBBERS. 
By  C.  Macfarlane,  Esq.  Author  of  "  The  Romance  of 
Italian  history.'  Together  with  a  Sketch  of  the  Lives 
of  Blackbeard  and  Captain  Kid,  by  the  American 
editor. 

"  No  species  of  narrative  except  that  of  Shipwrecks, 
produces  a  deeper  impression  on  people  of  all  ages  and 
conditions,  than  Banditti  and  Robber  Stories." — London 
Monthly  Magazine. 

"  The  great  variety  and  interest  of  these  narratives 
will  be  easily  estimated  from  the  specimen  we  have 
given.  Better  companions  cannot  be  had  than  those 
amusing  Robbers  and  Banditti." — Monthly  Review. 

"  Mr.  Macfarlane  has  collected  and  narrated  his 
Robber  Annals  with  equal  industry,  spirit  and  judg- 
ment."— Literary  Gazette. 

Works  in  Press  by  Key  and  Biddle. 

1.  THE  HOME  BOOK  OE  HEALTH  AND  MEDICINE,  being 
a  popular  treatise  on  the  means  of  Avoiding  and  Curing 
Diseases,  and  of  Preserving  the  Health  and  Vigour  of 
the  Body  to  the  latest  period :  including  a  full  account 
of  the  Diseases  of  Women  and  Children. 

2.  THE  YOUNG  MAN'S  SUNDAY  BOOK — In  continuation 
of  the  Series  commenced  by  the  Young  Man's  Own 
Book. 

3.  THE  RELIGIOUS  SOUVENIR  FOR  1834.    Edited  by  the 
Rev.  G.  T.  BEDELL,  which  will  be  published  in  a  style 
much  superior  to  that  of  the  present  year. 

4.  MEMOIRS  OF  HORTENSE  BEAUHARNAIS,  Dutchess  of 
St.  Leu,  Ex-Queen  of  Holland — Translated  from  the 
French. 


SEMI-SERIOUS 


OBSERVATIONS 


ITALIAN    EXILE 


HIS   RESIDENCE    IN   ENGLAND. 


BY   COUNT    PECCHIO. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

KEY  AND  BIDDLE,  NO.  6    MINOR  STREET. 
1833. 


1\£*/ 


P3 


ADVERTISEMENT, 


Giuseppe,  Count  Pecchio,  the  author  of  the  following 
pages,  is  not  altogether  unknown  to  the  English  public. 
In  the  year  1823  he  published  some  letters  on  the  Spa- 
nish revolution;  in  1824,  a  journal  of  military  and 
political  events  in  Spain  during  the  preceding  twelve- 
month ;  and  in  1825  (in  the  New  Monthly  Magazine)  a 
narrative  of  a  tour  in  Greece.  A  few  years  before  he 
had  fled  his  own  country — the  north  of  Italy — to  escape 
the  consequences  of  the  share  he  had  taken  in  the  un- 
successful Piedmontese  revolution.  He  had,  in  the  first 
instance,  taken  refuge  in  England,  but  the  climate  being 
injurious  to  his  health,  he  conceived  the  hope  of  finding 
a  more  congenial  residence  in  Spain,  where  he  was  con- 
nected by  friendship  with  some  of  the  most  distinguished 
public  characters ; — his  expulsion  from  that  country  he 
terms  a  second  exile.  Since  his  return  from  Greece  he 
has,  we  believe,  uninterruptedly  continued  in  England, 
has  married  an  English  lady,  and  now  resides  at 
Brighton. 

The  observations  contained  in  the  volume  before  the 
reader  will  often  be  found  particularly  striking,  from  the 
contrast  they  present  to  those  of  other  travellers.  What- 
ever opinion  may  be  formed  of  Count  Pecchio's  mode  ot 
thinking,  it  cannot  at  any  rate  be  denied  that  he  thinks 
for  himself.  This  translation  presents  a  complete  dupli- 
cate of  all  his  statements  and  opinions ;  faults,  errors, 
1* 


M280797 


b  ADVERTISEMENT. 

and  omissions  not  excepted.  It  was  at  first  intended  to 
add  a  few  notes,  pointing  out  where  the  count  had  fallen 
into  error,  but  it  was  soon  found  that  if  this  plan  were 
pursued,  the  work  would  have  been,  perhaps,  more 
augmented  than  improved.  Most  of  his  mistakes  are 
such  as  the  reader  will,  with  a  smile,  correct :  we  are  in 
no  danger  of  believing,  on  Count  Pecchio's  authority, 
that  in  England  all  the  boys  can  ride,  and  none  of  the 
children  ever  cry.  Besides,  his  slips,  though  they  may 
throw  no  light  on  English  character,  very  often  give  us 
an  insight,  the  more  valuable  from  being  unconscious, 
into  the  Italian.  We  have  however,  ventured  with  some 
hesitation,  to  correct  a  few  verbal  errors.  Thus,  in  his 
account  of  the  Nottingham  assizes,  when  the  count  in- 
forms us  that  he  saw  a  man  capitally  convicted  of  the 
crime  of  abigealo,  he  adds,  in  a  parenthesis,  as  the 
English  equivalent,  the  word  horsedeating :  as  we  were 
not  previously  aware  that  this  crime,  however  heinous, 
was  visited  with  a  punishment  so  severe  as  that  of  death, 
we  have,  on  our  own  responsibility,  changed  the  term  to 
horse-stealing. 

With  these  few  introductory  remarks,  we  commend 
Count  Pecchio,  in  his  English  dress,  to  the  benevolence 
of  his  English  readers. 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 


"  Ah !"  replied  Sancho,  weeping,  "  don't  die,  your 
honour,  but  follow  my  advice,  and  live  many  years  ; — 
because  the  silliest  thing  a  man  can  do  in  this  life  is  to 
die  without  any  reason,  without  being  killed  by  any  body, 
or  finished  off  by  any  other  hands  than  melancholy's." 
This  advice  of  the  faithful  Sancho  Panza  always  appeared 
to  me  the  plainest  and  best  of  all  the  recipes  philosophers 
have  prescribed  for  adversity.  Putting  it  then  into  prac- 
tice, instead  of  pouring  forth  useless  lamentations,  or 
hanging  down  my  head  like  a  weeping  willow,  I  have 
acquired  the  habit,  in  travelling,  of  throwing  upon  paper 
the  observations  that,  from  time  to  time,  new  objects 
awakened  in  me.  In  this  way  I  have  beguiled  a  good 
deal  of  the  leisure  of  my  exile ;  and  fortunate  I  am,  if, 
by  these  sketches,  I  can  beguile  some  moments  of  the 
leisure  of  my  countrymen.  My  book  cannot  enter  into 
competition  with  any  other ;  it  is  but  a  miscellany  like 
the  olla-podrida  of  the  Spaniards,  that  favourite  dish  of 
my  favourite  Sancho  Panza.  Let  him  who  wishes  to 
become  acquainted  with  English  politics,  read.  M.  de 
Pradt ;  him  who  wishes  to  know  the  statistics  of  England, 
refer  to  the  work  of  Baron  Dupin.  Let  him  who  desires 
to  understand  the  machinery  of  the  admirable  administra- 
tion of  justice  in  England,  consult  the  work  of  M.  Cottu. 
Let  him  who  wishes  to  become  familiar  with  English 


8  PREFACE. 

manners,  read  the  elegant  descriptions  of  the  American, 
Washington  Irving,  in  his  "Sketch-Book."  But  let  him 
who  does  not  love  science  and  information  well  enough 
to  read  these ;  who  admires  profiles  rather  than  full 
lengths ;  who  reads  for  reading  sake,  and  in  the  way  the 
journals  of  the  fashions  and  the  opera-books  are  read, 
skipping,  singing,  and  yawning — let  him,  I  say,  read 
the  following  observations  of 

GIUSEPPE  PECCHIO. 


CONTENTS. 


ARRIVAL  IN  LONDON. 

FIRST  IMPRESSIONS. 


Travelling — Climate — Gas — British  Inventions — 
Advantages  of  a  London  atmosphere — Idleness 
and  Industry — Love  of  Domestic  Life  13 

LONDON   HOUSES. 

Entry   into  London — Architecture — Economy  of 

Building Independence Habits Crowded 

Streets — Servants — Punctuality  and   activity  of 
Tradesmen — Clocks — Division  of  Time  25 

TEA  GARDENS. 

Sunday— Amusement— Parochial  and  other  Schools 
— Newspapers — Taverns — Politics — Love  of 
Flowers — Tea  Gardens — Religion — Swearing — 
Mechanics — Gymnastics — Bravery  of  Artificers 
— Division  of  Labour — Libraries — Knowledge 
among  the  People — Domestic  Comfort — Steam 
Engines — Competition  with  Manual  Labour  33 

SAILORS. 

Sailors  ashore— u  Grog" — Sea  Songs — Greenwich 
Hospital — The  Sea,  a  favourite  subject  of  English 
poetry — Courage  and  intrepidity  of  the  English 
Sailor — Cowper  and  Crabbe  46 


10  CONTENTS. 


THE  OPPOSITION  IN  THE  HOUSE  OF 
COMMONS. 

The  Houses  of  Lords  and  Commons — The  present 
Lord  Chancellor's  lengthy  speech  in  1828— Ora- 
tory of  the  English—"  The  Opposition"— Mr. 
Wilberforce— Sir  Robert  Wilson— England,  the 
"  Opposition"  of  the  World  64 

ENGLAND, 

THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED. 

England,  like  Venice  of  old,  the  refuge  of  the  per- 
secuted— Emigration  of  the  Lombards,  and  the 
French  Hugonots — Popularity  of  foreign  exiles 
in  England — Mina — Riego's  Widow — Arguelles 
— Franco  of  Valencia;  his  love  of  country — 
Count  Santorne  di  Santa  Rosa  73 

ROADS. 

Good  Roads  an  indication  of  a  civilised  country — 
Those  of  Greece,  South  America,  France,  Ger- 
many, and  Italy — Verrie's  comparison — English 
Inns — Highwaymen  now  rare — Stage  coaches  86 

TIME. 

Indolence  of  the  Spaniard — Importance  of  Time  in 
England — The  Funds — Machinery  for  saving 
Time  and  Labour  but  imperfectly  imitated  on 
the  Continent  99 

ENGLISH  MARKETS. 

Increased  use  of  Horses — Economy  of  Agriculture 
— Market  Costume — Habits — Merchandise — 
Popular  Literature — Recruiting— Market  Places 
—Markets  for  Servants  104 

ENGLISH    YOUNG   LADIES. 

The  Clergyman — Village  Inn — Rectory — The  La- 
dies—White Hands  117 


CONTENTS.  1 1 

PAGE 

SEQUEL. 

An  English  Villa— Tete-a-Tete — "The  Better 
Class"  124 

THE  BETROTHED. 

Match-making  in  England — "  Breach  of  Promise" 
—Female  Confidence  129 

EDUCATION. 

English  and  Italian  Female  Education — Protection 
to  Females  travelling  alone  136 

SEQUEL. 

Children — Their  food — Temperament  of  the  En- 
glish—" Affairs  of  Honour"— Female  Authors  140 

A  COUNTRY  WAKE. 

Vulgar  Superstitions — Whitsuntide — A  Fine  Day 
in  England — Plum  Pudding — Horse-Racing  and 
Betting  158 

THE  SPRING  ASSIZES. 

The  Circuit — Integrity  of  Juries — A  Seat  on  the 
Bench— Contrast  169 

UNITARIANS. 

Unitarian  Worship— Toleration — Schools  supported 
by  Dissenters  186 

METHODISTS,  RANTERS,  AND  JUMPERS. 

The  arithmetic  of  Sects—"  Love-feasts"— A  Visit 
to  the  Anabaptists  194 

BAPTISTS. 

Doctrine  of  Baptism — Immersion — Hudibras — Ri- 
ver Baptism  200 


1 2  CONTENTS- 


QUAKERS. 

Mr.  Fry— Fowell  Buxton — Quaker  Ladies — Din- 
ner Table— Indian  '*  Kings"— -Mrs.  Fry— Dis- 
courtesy of  George  IV. — Parliamentary  Justice 
— Domestic  habits  of  Quakers — Prison  Preach- 
ing— Female  Convicts — Benevolence  203 

RETREAT, 

OR  LUNATIC  ASYLUM,  NEAR  YORK. 

Lunatic  asylums  of  England  compared  with  those 
of  the  Continent — Madness  of  the  English — Lu- 
natics in  confinement — Physical  and  Moral 
Remedies — General  Observations  211 


ITALIAN    EXILE    IN    ENGLAND. 


ARRIVAL  IN   LONDON. 

FIRST  IMPRESSIONS. 

When,  on  his  first  arrival  in  England,  the  foreigner  is 
seated  on  the  roof  of  a  carriage  which  bears  him  to- 
wards London  at  the  rate  of  eight  miles  an  hour,  he 
cannot  help  believing  himself  hurried  along  in  the  car 
of  Pluto  to  the  descent  into  the  realms  of  darkness,  es- 
pecially if  he  have  just  left  Spain  or  Italy,  the  favourite 
regions  of  the  sun.  In  the  midst  of  wonder,  he  can 
hardly  avoid,  at  first  setting  off,  being  struck  with  an 
impression  of  melancholy.  An  eternal  cloud  of  smoke 
which  involves  and  penetrates  every  thing  ;  a  fog  which, 
during  the  months  of  November  and  December,  now 
grey,  now  red,  now  of  a  dirty  yellow,  always  obscures, 
and  sometimes  completely  extinguishes,  the  light  of  day, 
cannot  fail  to  give  a  lugubrious  and  Dantesque  air  to 
this  immeasurable  and  interminable  capital.  He,  above 
2 


14  THE   ITALIAN    EXILE 

all,  who  is  just  arrived  from  a  sunny  country,  experi- 
cnces,  as  I  said  before,  the  same  effect  as  when,  from 
the  bright  light  of  noon,  he  enters  a  half-closed  cham- 
ber :  at  the  first  glance  he  sees  nothing, — but  afterwards, 
by  little  and  little,  he  discerns  the  harp,  the  lady,  the 
sofa,  and  the  other  agreeable  objects  in  the  apartment. 
Caracciolo,  the  ambassador  to  George  the  Third,  was 
not  in  the  wrong  when  he  said,  that  the  moon  of  Naples 
was  warmer  than  the  sun  of  London.  In  fact,  for  seve- 
ral days  the  sun  only  appears  in  the  midst  of  the  dark- 
ness visible,  like  a  great  yellow  spot.  London  is  a  "  pa- 
norama of  the  sun,"  hi  which  he  is  often  better  seen 
than  felt.  On  the  29th  of  November,  1826,  there  wa& 
an  eclipse  visible  in  England  :  the  sky  that  day  happen- 
ed to  be  clear,  but  nobody  took  the  least  notice  of  the 
phenomenon,  because  the  fog  produces  in  ojie  year  more 
eclipses  in  England  than  there  ever  were,  from  other 
causes,  perhaps  since  the  creation  of  the  world. 

One  day  I  was  strolling  in  Hyde  Park,  in  company 
with  a  Peruvian ;  it  was  one  of  the  fine  days  of  London, 
but  the  sun  was  so  obscured  by  the  fog,  that  it  had  taken 
the  form  of  a  great  globe  of  fire.  "  What  do  you  think 
of  the  sun  to-day?"  said  I  to  my  companion.  "I 
thought,"  replied  the  adorer  of  the  true  sun,  "  that  the 
end  of  the  world  was  come !  Was  it  not  a  singular  ca- 
price of  Fortune,  that  where  there  is  the  least  light,  the 
great  Newton  should  have  been  born  to  analyse  it  ?"  It 
appears  to  me  like  the  other  singularity, — that  Alfieri, 
who  analysed  liberty  so  well,  should  have  been  born  in 
Italy,  where  they  have  less  of  it,  perhaps,  than  any 
where  else.  After  all,  what  of  it  ?  The  English,  by 
force  of  industry,  have  contrived  to  manufacture  for 
themselves  even  a  sun.  Is  it  not  indeed  a  sun, — that 
gas,  which,  running  underground  through  all  the  island, 
illuminates  the  whole  in  a,  fiat  lux  ?  It  is  a  sun,  with- 


IN  ENGLAND.  15 

out  twilight  and  without  setting,  that  rises  and  disap- 
pears like  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  that  too  just  when 
we  want  it.  The  gas  illumination  of  London  is  so 
beautiful,  that  M.  Sismondi  had  good  reason  to  say,  that 
in  London,  in  order  to  see,  you  must  wait  till  night. 
The  place  of  St.  Antonio,  at  Cadiz,  on  a  starry  summer's 
evening, — the  noisy  Strado  Toledo  of  Naples,  silvered 
by  the  moon, — the  Parisian  Tivoli,  blazing  with  fire- 
works ; — none  of  them  can  sustain  a  comparison  with 
the  Regent  street  of  London,  lighted  by  gas.  Nor  is 
this  artificial  sun  an  exclusive  advantage  of  the  capital ; 
it  shines  every  where  with  the  impartiality  of  the  great 
planet,  illuminating  alike  the  palace  and  the  hovel. 
Whoever  travels  in  England  by  night,  in  the  country 
around  Leeds,  Nottingham,  Derby,  or  Manchester,  ima- 
gines he  sees  on  every  side  the  enchanted  palaces  of  the 
fairies,  and  shining  in  the  light  of  a  thousand  torches : 
but  they  are  in  reality  no  other  than  very  large  and  very 
lofty  manufactories  of  cotton,  woollen,  or  linen.  The 
English  nation  is  free  from  the  defect  of  carping  at  new 
inventions.  Accustomed,  for  more  than  a  century,  to 
see  improvements  of  every  sort  at  every  turn,  when  a 
new  discovery  presents  itself,  they  examine  it,  study  it, 
adopt  the  good  part  of  it,  and  reject  the  bad.  Gas  has 
many  drawbacks.  If  it  escapes  into  the  atmosphere 
without  burning,  it  stinks  horribly ;  if  it  spreads  itself 
in  a  close  chamber,  it  takes  fire  at  the  contact  of  a 
candle,  and  may  occasion  death ;  the  gasometer  (or 
great  receptable  of  gas)  may  explode,  and  do  injury  both 
to  person  and  property.  No  matter ! — The  English 
carefully  guard  against  these  accidents,  and  finding,  in 
the  balance  of  their  good  sense,  the  advantages  greater 
than  the  disadvantages,  have  adopted  gas  for  the  beauty, 
continuity,  and  celerity  of  its  light.  Every  city  of  ten, 
twenty,  forty,  or  fifty  thousand  inhabitants,  has  a  gaso- 


16  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

meter,  which  is  singly  sufficient  to  dispense  light  to  all 
the  streets  and  all  the  houses.  Every  shopkeeper  pays 
so  much  (if  he  chooses)  for  this  light,  in  proportion  to 
the  time  and  the  quantity  of  flame,  calculated  according 
to  the  number  of  apertures  from  which  it  issues.  A 
company  conducts  the  business  (for  in  England  all  great 
undertakings  are  conducted  by  an  association  of  private 
resources, — that  is,  by  a  company),  and  their  shares  are 
shifted  from  hand  to  hand,  augment  the  mass  of  circu- 
lating capital,  and  rise  or  fall  in  price  according  to  the 
annual  profits.  "  Gas  gives  a  finer  light  than  tallow 
candles,  at  one  half,  and  even  one  third,  the  expense. 
The  cotton  factory  of  Messrs.  Philips  and  Lee,  at  Man- 
chester, perhaps  the  largest  lighted  by  gas,  was  the  first 
of  all  to  make  use  of  it,  in  the  year  1808  ;  including  the 
wear  and  tear,  and  the  interest  of  the  capital  employed 
in  the  pipes  and  apparatus,  the  annual  expense  amounts 
to  600Z.  sterling ; — if  they  were  to  burn  tallow  candles 
for  two  hours  every  evening,  the  expense  would  be 
2000Z."— Vide  The  History  of  the  Origin  and  Progress 
of  Gas  Lighting,  by  MR.  MATTHEWS. 

The  English  have  made  the  great  discovery,  that  use- 
ful inventions  increase  the  conveniences  and  the  wealth 
of  nations.  Thus,  notwithstanding  some  accidents  that 
now  and  then  occur  to  the  steam  vessels,  the  English 
continue  to  avail  themselves  of  them,  because  they  have 
calculated  that  if  they  did  not  exist,  shipwrecks  would 
be  more  frequent,  the  conveniences  of  life  would  be 
fewer,  and  the  ease  and  rapidity  of  travelling  much  re- 
duced. 

But  the  English  have  another  remedy  for  the  scarcity 
of  sun.  They  follow  the  example  of  poets  and  philoso- 
phers, who,  when  they  are  deficient  in  riches,  take  to 
praising  poverty; — not  being  able  to  praise  the  sun, 
they  sing  the  praises  of  the  fireside,  and  the  delights  of 


IN  ENGLAND.  17 

winter.  Ossian  (or  rather  Macpherson,  the  author  of 
Ossian),  instead  of  the  sun,  apostrophises  the  moon. 
He  takes  pleasure  in  describing-,  as  if  they  were  delight- 
ful, the  whistling  of  the  winds,  and  the  roaring  of  the 
torrents.  He  compares  the  locks  of  a  youthful  beauty 
to  mist  gilded  by  the  sun.  Instead  of  depicting  a  valley 
enamelled  with  flowers,  he  spurns  so  soft  and  effemi- 
nate an  image,  to  paint  the  aspect  of  a  frozen  lake,  and 
the  shaking  thistles  on  its  banks.  Cowper,  in  his  poem 
of  "  The  Task,"  seems  completely  to  enjoy  himself  in 
describing  a  winter's  evening,  when  the  rain  rattles 
down,  the  wind  whistles,  and  the  wagoner  growls  and 
grumbles  on  his  way ;  whilst  in-doors,  the  fire  burns, 
the  newspaper  arrives,  the  exhilarating  tea  glows  on  the 
table,  and  the  family  are  all  collected  round  the  hearth. 
Some  poet,  whose  name  I  forget,  (I  think  it  is  Byron,) 
even  gives  to  darkness  the  epithet  "  lovely."  Thomson, 
the  bard  of  M  The  Seasons,"  was  a  better  poet  even  than 
usual,  when  he  sung  of  winter.  He  calls  the  horrors  of 
winter  **  congenial  horrors ;"  and  after  describing  the 
mountains  of  snow,  that,  with  the  roar  of  thunder,  dart 
from  precipice  to  precipice,  to  the  bottom  of  the  Grison 
valleys,  destroying  and  burying  in  the  depth  of  night 
shepherds  and  their  flocks,  huts  and  villages,  single  tra- 
vellers and  whole  troops  of  marching  soldiers,  he  ima- 
gines himself,  with  epicurean  voluptuousness,  in  a  soli- 
tary and  well  sheltered  country-house,  before  a  blazing 
fire,  and  lighted  by  splendid  chandeliers,  reading  at  his 
ease  the  finest  works  of  the  ancients. 

"  Now,  all  amid  the  rigours  of  the  year, 
In  the  wild  depths  of  winter,  while  without 
The  ceaseless  winds  blow  ice, — be  my  retreat, 
Between  the  groaning  forest  and  the  shore 
2* 


18  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

Beat  by  the  boundless  multitude  of  waves  ; 

A  rural,  shelter'd,  solitary  scene, 

Where  ruddy  fire  and  beaming  tapers  join 

To  cheer  the  gloom. — There  studious  let  me  sit, 

And  hold  high  converse  with  the  mighty  dead, 

Sages  of  ancient  time,  as  gods  revered, 

As  gods  beneficent — who  bless'd  mankind 

With  arts,  with  arms, — and  humanised  a  world." 

Thus  all  the  poets  have  conspired  to  make  their  coun- 
trymen in  love  with  their  cloudy  heavens,  and  induce 
them  to  believe  themselves  fortunate  that  they  are  born 
in  a  delightful  climate.  And  what  matters  it  that  it  is  not 
true  ?  Are  not  the  tricks  and  illusions  of  the  imagi- 
nation, pleasures  as  substantial  as  actual  realities  ?  Mon- 
tesquieu said,  "  If  the  English  are  not  free,  at  least 
they  believe  they  are,  which  is  much  the  same."  So  we 
may  say,  if  the  English  have  not  a  fine  climate,  they 
believe  they  have,  and  that  is  as  good.  I  was  once 
praising,  to  a  young  English  lady,  the  pure,  lofty,  mo- 
ther-of-pearl heavens  of  Madrid,  of  Naples,  of  Athens, 
of  Smyrna.  She  replied,  "  I  should  be  tired  to  death 
by  such  a  perpetual  sunshine  :  the  variety  and  phantas- 
magoria of  our  clouds  must  surely  be  much  more  beau- 
tiful." 

I  have  quoted  Montesquieu : — I  must  quote  him 
again,  and  still  on  the  subject  of  the  sun.  In  spite  of 
Helvetius  and  Filangieri,  who  oppose  his  theory  of  the 
influence  of  climate,  I  could  almost  venture  to  believe, 
that  if  the  English  are  active  in  business,  profound 
thinkers,  and  good  fathers  of  families,  it  is  owing  to 
their  having  so  little  sun.  True,  that  with  the  false  light 
by  which  they  are  almost  always  surrounded,  the  English 
have  not  been  able  to  become  celebrated  painters  ;  that 
they  are  not,  and  perhaps  never  will  be  so.  But,  in  re- 


IN  ENGLAND.  19 

compense  for  this,  they  can  work  at  the  spinning  wheel 
and  the  loom  many  more  hours  than  the  countrymen  of 
Murillo  or  Raphael.  An  English  workman,  some  years 
ago  (before  parliament  restricted  the  hours  of  labour  to 
twelve),  used  to  work  about  sixteen  hours  a  day.  Ortes, 
the  Italian  political  economist,  calculates  the  medium 
labour  of  an  Italian  at  not  more  than  eight  hours  a  day. 
The  difference  is  great,  but  I  do  not  on  that  account  be- 
lieve the  statement  erroneous ;  the  extremes  of  summer 
and  winter  (in  some  parts  of  Italy) ;  very  sensitive  and 
irritable  nerves ;  the  beautiful  serene  sky  that  is  ever 
tempting  to  an  out-door  walk ;  all  these  do  not  allow  the 
Italian  to  give  a  long  and  steady  application  to  labour. 
There  is  nothing  of  this  kind  to  tempt  the  English  wea- 
ver to  abandon  his  loom.  He  is  like  one  of  those  blind 
horses,  which  are  continually  turning  round  and  round 
in  a  mill,  without  any  thing  being  able  to  divert  them 
from  their  unvarying  occupation. 

Necessity  is  the  goad  of  idleness,  and  the  constant  pa- 
tron of  industry ;  the  Spaniard  (and  so  with  all  the  sons 
of  the  sun)  who  has  no  need  of  stockings,  of  a  necker- 
chief, nor  a  coat ;  who  is  content  with  his  cigar  and  his 
gaspacho  ;*  who  sleeps  on  the  bare  ground,  and  who  feels 
no  curiosity,  because  he  believes  himself  the  favourite  child 
of  God,  placed  in  a  terrestial  paradise,"  He  who  says  Spain, 
says  every  thing,"  (says  the  Spanish  proverb),  laughs  at 
fashion,  at  books,  at  voyages  and  travels,  at  luxury,  at 
elegance :  he  is  a  Diogenes  in  his  tub,  who  wants  nothing 
but  the  sun.  The  indolence,  the  natural  laziness,  of  the 
southern  nations,  (which  was  once  conquered,  and  may 
be  conquered  once  again,  by  education  and  political  in- 
stitutions,) is  not  a  defect  for  which  they  ought  to  be 
blamed,  any  more  than  their  sobriety  is  a  virtue  for  which 

*  Soup  made  of  water,  vinegar,  bread,  and  a  little  scraped  onion. 


20  THE  ITALIAN  EXIfK 

they  ought  to  be  praised :  the  blame  or  the  merit  is  all 
the  sun's.  The  Englishman,  on  the  contrary,  receives 
from  his  climate  a  multitude  of  necessities,  all  so  many 
spurs  to  industry  and  exertion.  He  has  need  of  more 
substantial  food,  of  constant  firing,  of  cravats,  double  cra- 
vats, coats,  great  coats;  tea,  brandy,  spirits;  a  larger 
wardrobe,  on  account  of  the  increased  consumption 
caused  by  the  smoke  and  the  wet,  &c.  &c.  &c.  Comfort 
is  in  the  mouth  of  every  Englishman  at  every  moment; 
it  is  the  half  of  his  life.  My  own  countryman  make  every 
effort,  and  with  reason,  to  obtain  the  pleasures  of  the  life 
to  come :  the  English,  with  no  less  reason,  to  procure  the 
pleasures  of  the  present.  The  word  "  comfort"  is  the 
source  of  the  riches  and  the  power  of  England.  Idleness, 
in  this  country,  necessarily  leads  to  suicide,  because  it 
is  the  privation  of  every  thing.  Nature  has  here,  as  it 
were,  denied  every  thing  to  man,  but  in  recompense  has 
bestowed  on  him  the  power  and  the  perseverance  to  pro- 
cure every  thing  for  himself.  "  Either  read,  or  walk,  or 
play,"  said  a  good  mother,  in  my  hearing,  to  a  little  girl 
of  nine  years  old,  who  happened  to  be  standing  idle. 
What  the  lady  meant  to  imply  was,  that  any  thing  was 
better  than  doing  nothing.  In  Italy  there  is  a  proverb, 
that  idleness  is  the  parent  of  every  vice:  since  vice  pro- 
cures us  a  momentary  pleasure,  this  proverb  is  adapted 
rather  to  induce  than  to  deter.  In  England  the  case  is 
altered,  and  idleness  might  be  called  the  parent  of  every 
misery. 

"Lying  a-bed  and  doing  nothing  at  all,"  so  sweet  to 
Berni,  would  be  frightful  to  an  Englishman,  who  hates 
laziness  as  much  as  a  Spaniard  or  a  lazzarone  hates  work. 
It  is  a  common  opinion,  in  England,  that  there  can  be  no 
happiness  without  occupation.  I  know  not  whether  this 
opinion  is  a  just  one,  because  happiness  depends  so  much 
on  the  imagination.  The  Fakeer,  who  rots  in  idleness 


IN  ENGLAND.  21 

with  a  yoke  on  his  neck  (a  true  picture  of  the  idle  and  en- 
slaved nations),  believes  himself  happy,  and  perhaps  is  so. 
But,  that  idleness  is  the  companion  of  poverty  and  igno- 
rance, and  that  labour,  on  the  contrary,  is  the  companion 
of  opulence  and  enlightenment,  Spain  and  England  are 
two  living  witnesses. 

That  frequent  absence  of  the  sun  which  makes  the  ar- 
tisan more  laborious,  renders  man  also  a  more  thinking 
animal.  Who  would  not  become  a  philosopher,  if  he 
was  shut  up  in  the  house  for  so  many  hours  by  the  incle- 
mencies of  the  weather,  with  a  cheerful  fire,  quiet  and  obe- 
dient servants,  a  good  humoured  wife,  and  silence  within 
doors  and  without  ?  The  profundity  of  the  English  wri- 
ters is  a  product  of  the  climate,  as  much  as  the  iron,  the 
tin,  and  the  coal  of  the  island.  The  sun  disperses  fami- 
lies, and  scatters  them  abroad  ;  a  good  fire  blazing  up  the 
chimney  attracts  and  draws  them  together  again.  "  The 
family,"  in  cold  countries,  is  an  equivalent  for  our  "  socie- 
ty" and  our  theatres.  It  is  one  of  the  wants  of  the  heart 
and  the  intellect.  A  national  song,  which  is  heard  every 
where,  from  the  splendid  stage  of  the  Covent-garden  to 
the  humblest  hovel  in  Scotland,  is  called  "  Home,  sweet 
Home,"  (Oh  casa !  oh  dolce  casa !)  and  home  is  truly 
sweet  in  England.  In  the  southern  countries  every  thing 
gives  way  to  public  places,  and  public  amusements.  The 
houses,  which,  for  the  most  part,  are  only  used  for  sleep- 
ing in,  are  often  in  bad  repair,  and  oftener  very  poorly 
furnished.  Where,  on  the  contrary,  domestic  life  is  all 
in  all,  it  is  natural  to  think  of  rendering  it  pleasant ;  hence 
the  reciprocal  respect,  the  docility,  the  agreement  of  the 
members  of  a  family,  the  punctuality  of  service,  the  uni- 
versal neatness,  and  the  excellence  of  the  furniture, — con- 
venient, self-moving,  and  obedient,  almost  as  though  it 
were  endowed  with  life,  like  the  ancient  manufactures  of 
Vulcan.  The  families  have  a  form  similar  to  that  of  the 


22  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

government ;  they  are  neither  republics  nor  absolute  mo- 
narchies. There  is  a  head,  but  there  is  no  tyrant  in  them. 
Every  father  is  like  the  King  of  England, — limited  in  his 
powers  by  reason,  by  custom,  and  by  the  general  interest. 
The  families  are  not  however  patriarchal ;  that  is,  a  mix- 
ture of  several  generations,  in  which  the  head  is — 

"  King,  priest,  and  parent  of  his  growing  state." 

Here  the  head  is  only  the  father.  The  "  homeborn  hap- 
piness," so  well  defined  by  Cowper,  is  incompatible  with 
the  diversity  of  ages  and  dispositions.  Every  marriage 
forms  a  new  family,  and  it  is  very  rare  to  find  under  the 
same  roof  the  implacable  wives  and  their  mothers  in  law, 
and  the  two  placable  husbands  and  their  brothers  in 
law : — 

"  Blest  be  that  spot  where  cheerful  guests  retire, 
To  pause  from  toil,  and  trim  their  evening  fire : 
Blest  that  abode,  where  want  and  pain  repair, 
And  every  stranger  finds  a  ready  chair ; 
Blest  be  those  feasts,  with  simple  plenty  crown'd, 
Where  all  the  ruddy  family  around 
Laugh  at  the  jest,  or  pranks  that  never  fail, 
Or  sigh  with  pity  at  some  mournful  tale  : 
Or  press  the  bashful  stranger  to  his  food, 
And  learn  the  luxury  of  doing  good." 

Poetry  is  the  painting  of  the  English,  and,  instead  of  re- 
presenting, as  the  Flemings  do  in  their  pictures,  the  holi- 
day pleasures  of  their  rustic  fellow  countrymen,  the  Eng- 
lish, in  their  poetry,  vie  with  each  other  in  describing 
the  less  sensual  contentment  of  their  families,  which  com" 
pensates  and  corrects  the  rigours  of  the  climate ;-— 


IN  ENGLAND.  23 

"  Content  can  spread  a  charm, 
Redress  the  clime,  and  all  its  rage  disarm." 

But  the  most  beautiful  sun  of  England  is  Liberty ;  this 
is  its  cornucopia.  What  were  Mexico  or  Peru  in  com- 
parison !  Warmed  by  a  delicious  sun,  they  were  ren- 
dered barren  and  desolate  by  tyranny.  England,  less 
favoured  by  the  great  planet,  is  made  fertile,  and  blessed 
with  every  good,  by  liberty.  Addison  wrote  from  Italy, 
to  Lord  Halifax,  in  1701,  in  perhaps  the  most  elegant 
verses  he  ever  composed, — 

"How  has  kind  heaven  adorn 'd  the  happy  land, 

And  scattered  blessings  with  a  wasteful  hand  ! 

But  what  avail  her  unexhausted  stores, 

Her  blooming  mountains,  and  her  sunny  shores, 

With  all  the  gifts  that  heav'n  and  earth  impart, 

The  smiles  of  nature,  and  the  charms  of  art, 

While  proud  oppression  in  her  valleys  reigns, 

And  tyranny  usurps  her  happy  plains  ? 

Oh !  Liberty,  thou  goddess  heav'nly  bright, 

Profuse  of  bliss,  and  pregnant  with  delight ! 

Thee,  goddess,  thee,  Britannia's  isle  adores, 

How  has  she  oft  exhausted  all  her  stores, 

How  oft  in  fields  of  death  thy  presence  sought, 

Nor  thinks  the  mighty  prize  too  dearly  bought ! 

'Tis  Liberty  that  crowns  Britannia's  isle, 

And  makes  her  barren  rocks,  and  her  bleak  mountains 

smile. 

Others  with  towering  piles  may  please  the  sight, 
And  in  their  proud  aspiring  domes  delight ; 
'Tis  Britain's  care  to  watch  o'er  Europe's  fate, 
And  hold  in  balance  each  contending  state ; 
To  threaten  bold  presumptuous  kings  with  war, 
And  answer  her  afflicted  neighbour's  pray'r  !" 


24  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

Almost  all  the  divine  race  of  poets — divine,  because 
always  enamoured  of  liberty — have  endeavoured  to  con- 
sole their  native  country  for  the  want  of  a  constantly 
brilliant  sun,  by  similar  observations  to  these.  Even 
Waller,  who  flattered  equally  both  Cromwell  and  Charles 
the  Second,  in  the  panegyric  he  Composed  upon  the  for- 
mer, says : — 

"  Angels  and  we  have  this  prerogative, — 
That  none  can  at  our  happy  seats  arrive, 
While  we  descend  at  pleasure  to  invade 
The  bad  with  vengeance,  and  the  good  to  aid, 
Our  little  world,  the  image  of  the  great, 
Like  her  amid  the  boundless  ocean  set, 
Of  her  own  growth  hath  all  that  nature  craves, 
And  all  that 's  rare  as  tribute  from  the  waves. 
As  Egypt  does  not  on  the  clouds  rely, 
But  to  the  Nile  owes  more  than  to  the  sky, 
So  what  our  earth  and  what  our  heaven  denies, 
Our  ever  constant  friend  the  sea  supplies. 
The  taste  of  hot  Arabia's  spice  we  know, 
Free  from  the  scorching  sun  that  makes  it  grow, 
Without  the  worms  in  Persia's  silks  we  shine, 
And,  without  planting,  drink  of  every  vine. 
To  dig  for  wealth,  we  weary  not  our  limbs, 
Gold,  though  the  heaviest  metal,  hither  swims, 
Ours  is  the  harvest  where  the  Indians  mow, 
We  plough  the  deep,  and  reap  what  others  sow, 
Things  of  the  noblest  kind  our  own  soil  breeds, 
Stout  are  our  men,  and  warlike  are  our  steeds, 
Rome,  though  her  eagle  through  the  world  had  flown, 
Could  never  make  this  island  all  her  own !" 


IN  ENGLAND.  25 


LONDON   HOUSES. 


If  the  sky  is  dark,  not  less  gloomy  is  the  whole  first 
appearance  of  London  to  him  who  enters  it  by  the  Dover 
road.  The  smoky  colour  of  the  houses  gives  it  the 
appearance  of  a  city  that  has  been  burnt.  If  to  this  be 
added  the  silence  which  prevails  in  the  midst  of  a  popu- 
lation of,  perhaps,  one  million  four  hundred  thousand 
persons,  all  in  motion  (so  that  one  seems  to  be  in  a  thea- 
tre of  Chinese  shades),  and  the  wearisome  uniformity  of 
the  houses,  almost  all  built  in  the  same  style,  like  a  city 
of  the  beavers,  it  will  be  easy  to  imagine,  that  on  first 
entering  this  darksome  hive,  the  smile  of  pleased  surprise 
soon  gives  way  to  a  gloomy  wonder.  This  was  the  old 
English  style  of  building,  which  still  prevails  in  the 
country.  But,  since  the  English  have  substituted  the 
blue  pill  for  suicide,  or,  still  better,  a  journey  to  Paris ; 
and,  instead  of  Young's  Night  Thoughts,  read  the  ro- 
mances of  Walter  Scott,  they  have  cheered  up  their 
houses  with  a  coat  of  white,  and  have  recently  rebuilt 
the  western  part  of  the  capital  "  west  end"  in  a  gayer 
and  more  varied  style  of  architecture.  I  do  not  mean  to 
assert  that  the  English  have  become  a  tribe  of  skippers 
and  laughers,  like  the  young  Parisian  of  eighteen — they 
still  delight  in  ghosts,  witches,  haunted  church-yards,  and 
a  whole  host  of  monstrosities.  Wo  be  to  him  who  should 

a 


26  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

venture  to  write  a  romance  without  some  apparition  fitted 
to  make  "  each  particular  hair  stand  on  end !" 

The  houses  are  small  and  fragile.  The  first  night  I 
spent  in  a  lodging-house,  I  seemed  to  myself  still  on 
board  the  vessel ;  the  walls  were  equally  slender,  and,  in 
great  part,  of  wood,  the  chambers  small,  and  the  staircase 
like  a  companion  ladder ;  the  walls  are  generally  so  thin, 
that  they  allow  the  passage  of  sounds  without  interrup- 
tion. The  lodgers  would  hear  one  another  talking,  but 
that  they  are  accustomed  to  speak  in  an  under  tone.  I 
could  hear  the  murmur  of  the  conversation  of  my  neigh- 
bour overhead, — my  zenith,  as  well  as  that  of  the  other 
neighbour  beneath  my  feet,  like  the  opposite  point  nadir; 
and  I  distinguished,  at  intervals,  the  words,  "  Very  fine 

weather, — indeed — very   fine — comfort — comfortable 

great  comfort" — words  which  occur  as  often  in  their 
conversation  as  stops  and  commas  in  a  book.  In  a  word, 
the  houses  are  ventriloquous.  As  I  said  before,  they  are 
all  uniform.  In  a  three-story  house,  there  are  three  bed- 
rooms, one  over  the  other,  and  three  parlours  in  the 
same  situation,  so  that  the  population  is  as  it  were  ware- 
housed in  layers  like  merchandise — like  the  cheese  in 
the  storehouses  at  Lodi  and  Codogno.  The  English  have 
not  chosen  without  design  this  (I  will  venture  to  call  it) 
naval  architecture.  The  advantages  they  derive  from  living 
in  houses  of  small  size  and  little  durability  are  these  :  in 
general,  a  house  is  only  built  for  99  years;  if  it  outlive  this 
term,  it  belongs  to  the  proprietor  of  the  ground  on  which 
it  is  built.  It  seldom  happens,  therefore,  that  they  attain  to 
any  great  longevity ;  on  the  contrary,  they  sometimes 
tumble  to  pieces  before  the  natural  period  of  their  exist- 
ence. The  English,  who  are  better  arithmeticians  than 
architects,  have  discovered,  that,  by  building  in  this  slip- 
pery manner,  they  consume  less  capital,  and  that  conse- 
quently the  annual  interest  and  the  annual  loss  of  prin- 


IN  ENGLAND.  27 

cipal  are  proportionately  less.  There  is  another  advantage: 
by  this  method,  posterity  is  not  hampered  or  tyrannised 
over.  Every  generation  can  choose  and  build  its  own 
houses,  according  to  its  own  caprices,  and  its  own  neces- 
sities; and,  although  in  a  great  measure  composed  of 
wood,  all  the  houses  are  as  it  were  incombustible,  by 
means  of  the  insurance  companies,  which  guarantee  the 
value  of  the  house,  the  furniture,  and  every  thing  else. 
A  fire  is  no  misfortune,  but  merely  a  temporary  incon- 
venience to  the  inmates ;  a  something  to  look  at  for  the 
passengers,  and  an  entertaining  paragraph  for  the  news- 
papers. To  an  Englishman,  his  house  is  his  Gibraltar ; 
he  must  not  only  be  inviolable,  but  absolute,  without  dis- 
pute or  fuss.  He  prefers  living  in  a  shell  like  an  oyster, 
to  living  in  a  palace  with  all  the  annoyance  of  a  hen- 
roost. Independence  is  the  vital  air  of  the  Englishman. 
Hence  as  soon  as  a  son  is  married,  he  leaves  home,  and 
like  the  polypi,  which  when  cut  in  pieces  make  so  many 
polypi  more,  goes  to  evolve  elsewhere  another  family. 
Numerous  and  patriarchal  families  belong  to  agricultural 
communities.  Among  commercial  nations,  which  have 
factories  and  colonies  in  all  parts  of  the  globe,  when  the 
son  has  received  a  suitable  education,  he  abandons  the 
parental  nest,  and  like  the  birds,  goes  elsewhere  to  build 
one  for  himself. 

"  Hail,  independence,  hail!  heaven's  next  best  gift 
To  that  of  life  and  an  immortal  soul ; 
The  life  of  life,  that  to  the  banquet  high 
And  sober  meal  gives  taste,  to  the  bow'd  roof 
Fair  dream'd  repose,  and  to  the  cottage  charms !" 

The  love  of  independence,  that  "  life  of  life,"  as  Thom- 
son calls  it  in  his  poem  on  Liberty,  manifests  itself  even 
in  the  churches,  where  every  English  family  has  a  seat 


28  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

of  its  own,  surrounded  by  a  fence.  Whoever  travels  in 
England  will  observe,  how,  even  in  the  smallest  villages, 
the  meanest  habitations  are  separated  from  one  another 
by  a  hedge,  a  wall,  or  a  paling.  No  empire  can  have  its 
boundaries  better  denned,  or  can  guard  its  independence 
with  more  jealousy. 

Why  are  not  the  English  good  dancers  ?  Because  they 
do  not  practise.  The  houses  are  so  small  and  so  weak, 
that  he  who  would  cut  a  caper  in  the  third  story  must 
run  the  risk  of  thundering  like  a  bombshell  down  into 
the  kitchen,  which  is  placed  under  ground.  This  is  no 
mere  hyperbole  of  mine.  One  of  the  stipulations  on 
taking  a  house  in  London,  is  often  that  no  dancing  shall 
take  place  in  it.  Why  is  it  that  the  English  gesticulate 
so  little,  and  have  their  arms  almost  always  glued  to 
their  sides?  For  the  same  reason,  I  believe:  the  rooms 
are  so  small  that  it  is  impossible  to  wave  one's  arm  with- 
out breaking  something,  or  inconveniencing  somebody. 

Some  people  are  quite  thunderstruck  at  the  silence 
which  prevails  among  the  inhabitants  of  London.  But 
how  could  one  million  four  hundred  thousand  persons 
live  together  without  silence?  The  torrent  of  men,  women, 
and  children,  carts,  carriages,  and  horses,  from  the  Strand 
to  the  Exchange,  is  so  strong,  that  it  is  said  that  in  win- 
ter there  are  two  degrees  of  Fahrenheit  difference  be- 
tween the  atmosphere  of  this  long  line  of  street,  and  that 
of  the  West  End.  I  have  not  ascertained  the  truth  of 
this ;  but  from  the  many  avenues  there  are  to  the  Strand, 
it  is  very  likely  to  be  correct.  From  Charing  Cross  to 
the  Royal  Exchange  is  an  encyclopedia  of  the  world. 
An  apparent  anarchy  prevails,  but  without  confusion  or 
disorder.  The  rules  which  the  poet  Gay  lays  down  in  his 
"Trivia,  or  the  Art  of  Walking  the  Streets  of  London," 
for  walking  with  safety  along  this  tract  of  about  three 
miles,  appear  to  me  unnecessary.  The  habit  of  travers- 


IN  ENGLAND.  29 

ing  this  whirlpool  renders  the  passage  easy  to  every  one, 
without  disputes,  without  accidents,  without  punctilio,  as 
if  there  were  no  obstacle  whatever.  I  suppose  it  is  the 
same  thing  at  Pekin.  The  silence  then  of  the  passengers 
is  the  consequence  of  the  multiplicity  of  business.  I  do 
not  say  it  by  way  of  epigram,  but,  if  Naples  should  ever 
have  a  population  of  a  million  and  a  half,  it  would  be  ne- 
cessary for  even  Neapolitan  windpipes  to  put  themselves 
under  some  restraint !  It  is  only  in  Spain  that  silence  is 
the  companion  of  idleness.  This  is  perhaps  the  perfection 
of  idleness ;  idleness  at  its  ne  plus  ultra. 

In  London  I  have  often  risen  early,  in  order  to  be  pre- 
sent at  the  spectacle  of  the  resurrection  of  a  million  and 
a  half  of  people.  This  great  monster  of  a  capital,  like  an 
immense  giant  awaking,  shows  the  first  signs  of  life  in 
the  extremities.  Motion  begins  at  the  circumference, 
and,  by  little  and  little,  goes  on  getting  strength,  and 
pushing  towards  the  centre,  till  at  ten  o'clock  commences 
the  full  hubbub,  which  goes  on  continually  increasing  till 
four  o'clock,  the  'Change  hour.  It  seems  as  if  the  popu- 
lation followed  the  laws  of  the  tide  until  this  hour ;  it 
now  continues  flowing  from  the  circumference  to  the 
Exchange :  at  half  past  four,  when  the  Exchange  is  shut, 
the  ebb  begins ;  and  currents  of  people,  coaches,  and 
horses,  rush  from  the  Exchange  to  the  circumference. 

Among  an  industrious  nation,  incessantly  occupied, 
panting  for  riches,  man,  or  physical  force,  is  a  valuable 
commodity.  Man  is  dear,  and  it  is  therefore  expedient 
to  be  very  economical  of  him.  It  is  not  as  in  the  coun- 
tries of  indolence,  where  the  man  and  the  earth  alike 
have  little  or  no  value.  A  Turkish  effendi,  or  gen- 
tleman, always  walks  about  with  a  train  of  useless  ser- 
vants at  his  heels.  In  the  same  manner  a  Polish  noble- 
man, or  a  grandee  of  Spain,  consumes  a  great  quantity 
of  men,  who  are  otherwise  unproductive.  I  was  told, 
3* 


30  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

that  the  Duke  of  Medini  Cell  has  in  his  pay  four  hundred 
servants,  and  that  he  goes  to  the  Prado  in  a  carriage 
worse  than  a  Parisian  patache.  It  was  the  same  in 
England  when  there  was  a  foreign  commerce,  and  no 
home  manufactures.  Not  knowing  in  what  way  to  con- 
sume their  surplus  revenues,  the  old  English  land  owner 
used  to  maintain  a  hundred,  and,  in  some  cases,  even  a 
thousand  followers.  At  the  present  day,  the  greatest 
houses  have  not  more  than  ten  or  twelve  servants ;  and, 
setting  aside  the  wealthy,  who  are  always  an  exception 
in  every  nation,  and  taking  the  greatest  number,  it  can- 
not  be  denied  that  in  England,  and  especially  in  London, 
there  is  a  very  great  saving,  both  of  time  and  of  servants. 
But  how  can  this  be  reconciled  with  the  loudly  vaunted 
comfort  of  the  English  ?  Thus :  the  milk,  the  bread,  the 
butter,  the  beer,  the  fish,  the  meat,  the  newspaper,  the 
letters, — all  are  brought  to  the  house  every  day,  at  the 
same  hour,  without  fail,  by  the  shopkeepers  and  the 
postmen.  It  is  well  known  that  all  the  street-doors  are 
kept  shut,  as  is  the  custom  in  Florence  and  the  other  cities 
of  Tuscany.  In  order  that  the  neighbourhood  should 
not  be  disturbed,  it  has  become  an  understood  thing  for 
these  messengers  to  give  a  single  rap  on  the  knocker,  or 
a  single  pull  at  the  bell,  which  communicates  with  the 
underground  kitchen,  where  the  servants  are.  There  is 
another  conventual  sign  for  visits,  which  consists  in  a 
rapid  succession  of  knocks,  the  more  loud  and  noisy  ac- 
cording to  the  real  or  assumed  consequence  or  fashion  of 
the  visiter.  On  this  system,  Parini  makes  his  hero  talk 
in  public  in  a  high  and  discordant  voice,  that  every  one 
may  hear  him,  and  pay  the  same  respect  to  his  accents 
as  to  those  of  "  the  great  thunderer."  Even  in  London, 
the  magnanimous  heroes  of  fashion  announce  themselves 
to  the  obtuse  senses  of  the  vulgar  with  "echoing  blows," 
like  those  of  the  hammer  of  Bronte. 


IN  ENGLAND.  31 

This  custom  requires  punctuality  in  servants,  and  an 
unfailing  attendance  at  their  posts.  The  price  of  every 
thing  is  fixed,  so  that  there  is  no  room  for  haggling-,  dis- 
pute, or  gossip.  All  this  going  and  coming  of  buyers 
and  sellers  is  noiseless.  Many  bakers  ride  about  Lon- 
don in  vehicles  so  rapid,  elastic,  and  elegant,  that  an 
Italian  dandy  would  not  disdain  to  appear  in  one  of  them 
at  the  Corso.  The  butchers  may  be  frequently  met  with, 
conveying  the  meat  to  their  distant  customers,  mounted 
on  fiery  steeds,  and  dashing  along  at  full  gallop.  A  sys- 
tem like  this  requires  inviolable  order,  and  a  scrupulous 
division  of  time.  For  this  reason  there  are  clocks  and 
watches  every  where,— on  every  steeple,  and  sometimes 
on  all  the  four  sides  of  a  steeple ;  in  the  pocket  of  every 
one ;  in  the  kitchen  of  the  lowest  journeyman.  This  is 
a  nation  working  to  the  stroke  of  the  clock,  like  an 
orchestra  playing  to  the  "time"  of  the  leader,  or  a  regi- 
ment marching  to  the  sound  of  the  drum.  Nothing  can 
be  more  ingenious  than  the  various  ways  in  which  the 
English  contrive  to  mark  the  division  of  time.  In  some 
machines,  for  example,  at  every  certain  number  of  strokes, 
the  machine  rings  a  bell  to  inform  the  workmen  of  the 
fact.  The  tread-mill,  introduced  for  a  punishment  and 
an  employment  in  the  houses  of  correction,  also  rings  a 
bell  every  time  it  makes  a  certain  number  of  revolutions. 
In  the  wool-carding  manufactory  at  Manchester  there  is 
a  species  of  clock  to  ascertain  if  the  watchman,  whose 
duty  it  is  to  guard  against  fire,  has  kept  awake  all  the 
night.  If,  every  quarter  of  an  hour,  he  omits  to  pull 
a  rope  which  hangs  from  the  wall  outside,  the  clock 
within  notes  down  and  reveals  his  negligence  in  the 
morning. 

One  shopman,  therefore,  in  London,  supplies  the  place 
of  forty  or  fifty  servants :  the  shops  may  be  distant,  and 
remotely  situated,  without  any  inconvenience.  The 


32  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

shopkeepers  themselves  do  not  remain  idle,  and,  instead 
of  men,  in  some  places  lads  or  children  are  employed. 
The  newspapers  are  circulated  from  house  to  house  at  a 
penny  an  hour ;  the  carrier  is  a  boy  of  ten  or  twelve  years 
old,  active  as  a  sprite,  exact  as  time,  who  brings  them 
and  takes  them  away. 

By  this  system,  the  servants  remain  at  home,  with 
nothing  to  divert  them  from  their  occupations.  The 
servant  maids,  especially,  very  seldom  go  out  during  all 
the  week,  until  the  arrival  of  Sunday  sets  them  at  liberty 
for  three  or  four  hours.  It  follows,  also,  that  an  English 
family  has  no  need  of  keeping  any  great  store  of  pro- 
visions in  the  house ;  there  is  in  consequence  less  occu- 
pation of  room,  and  less  occasion  for  capital,  less  care, 
less  waste,  less  smell,  and  less  wear  and  tear. 


IN  ENGLAND.  33 


TEA   GARDENS. 


How  to  get  through  the  supremely  dull  and  wearisome 
English  Sunday  is  always  a  puzzling  problem.  This 
country,  all  alive,  all  in  motion,  on  other  days,  is,  as  it 
were,  struck  with  a  fit  of  apoplexy  on  the  Sunday.  In 
general,  the  foreigner,  to  make  his  escape  from  the 
"solemn  sadness,"  climbs  at  ten  in  the  morning  upon 
one  of  the  unfailing  four-horse  stages,  at  Charing  Cross 
or  Piccadilly,  and  contrives,  at  any  rate,  to  get  himself 
whirled  away  from  London.  He  goes  to  Richmond, 
takes  a  quiet  stroll  in  the  beautiful  park,  admires  the 
tortuous  bend  of  the  Thames, — which  will  appear  to*  him 
a  muddy  or  a  golden  stream,  as  he  is  in  a  poetic  or  pro- 
saic humour, — and  pays  at  an  enormous  rate  for  a  dinner, 
seasoned  with  the  formal  bows  of  servants  in  silk  stock- 
ings, who  are  dressed  in  black  from  toe  to  toe,  like  an 
advocate  of  Turin.  Or  he  goes  to  Greenwich  to  admire 
another  "beautiful  park,  the  famous  observatory,  and  the 
magnificent  hospital  for  invalid  seamen ;  and  takes  his 
dinner  in  sight  of  the  many  vessels  sailing  past  on  their 
return  from  China  or  the  Indies.  Or,  if  he  wishes 
for  a  more  economical  excursion,  he  goes  to  gape  on  the 
lovely  hill  of  Hampstead,  compassionating  London,  en- 
veloped in  its  cloud  of  smoke,  and  congratulating  him- 
self on  having  made  his  escape  from  it.  All  these  are 
good  preservatives  against  the  bore  of  Sunday,  but  it  is  not 


34  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

in  any  of  these  beautiful,  but,  notwithstanding,  melan- 
choly places,  nor  yet  at  the  brilliant — and  serious — pro- 
menade in  Hyde-park,  that  a  foreigner  must  seek  to  ac- 
quire a  knowledge  of  the  nation.  John  Bull  does  not  go 
to  show  his  paces  in  Hyde-park  or  Kensington  gardens, 
nor  to  feed  himself  with  poetical  beauties,  and  compose 
romantic  pastorals  in  Windsor-forest.  If  you  wish  to  see 
that  marvellous  personage,  who  has  been  the  admiration 
and  the  laughing-stock  of  Europe  for  more  than  a  cen- 
tury ;  who  clothes  almost  all  the  world;  who  gains  battles 
by  sea  and  by  land  without  much  boasting  about  it ;  who 
works  as  much  as  three,  and  eats  and  drinks  enough  for 
six ;  who  is  the  pawnbroker  and  moneylender  to  all  the 
kings  and  all  the  republics  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and 
is  yet,  in  a  manner,  bankruptcied  at  home,  and  is  some- 
times like  Midas,  famishing  with  hunger  in  the  midst  of 
gold — you  must  seek  him  elsewhere.  In  the  winter  you 
must  descend  into  the  subterranean  taverns.  There, 
round  a  blazing  sea-coal  fire,  you  will  find  seated  the 
English  working  men,  well  dressed,  well  shod,  smoking 
drinking,  reading, — and  holding  their  tongues.  The 
schools  of  mutual  instruction,  and  the  Sunday  schools 
which  are  kept  open  gratuitously  by  all  classes  of 
dissenters,  for  the  education  of  the  poor  children  be- 
longing to  their  sect,  have  made  the  English  people 
well  acquainted  with  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic. 
In  Scotland,  even  before  the  mutual  instruction  system 
there  existed  parochial  schools,  in  which,  besides  reading 
and  writing,  the  scholars  were  taught  the  rudiments  of 
Latin  grammar  and  psalmody.  It  is  well  known  that 
these  Scotch  schools  produced  a  great  number  of  poets, — 
among  them,  James  Beattie,  author  of  "The  Minstrel ;" 
and  Burns,  a  humble  farmer,  who  became,  without  a 
rival,  the  Theocritus  of  modern  times.  For  this  class  of 
readers  there  are  published  a  number  of  Sunday  newspapers 


IN  ENGLAND*  35 

which  contain  an  abridgment  of  all  the  intelligence, 
anecdotes,  and  observations,  which  have  appeared  in  the 
daily  newspapers  in  the  course  of  the  week.  Thus  the 
blacksmith  and  the  weaver  are  as  well  acquainted  with 
the  great  events  which  are  passing,  as  the  first  speakers 
in  parliament.  This  is  not  a  matter  of  trifling  impor- 
tance :  it  is  in  these  taverns,  and  amid  the  smoke  of 
tobacco  and  the  fumes  of  porter,  that  public  opinion 
takes  its  rise,  and  its  original  form, — that  it  reaches  its 
first  stage.  It  is  here  that  the  conduct  of  every  citizen 
is  weighed ;  this  is  the  road  which  leads  to  the  capitol  or 
the  Tarpeian  rock ;  it  is  here  that  the  love  of  country  and 
the  love  of  glory  are  kindled,  that  the  services  rendered 
to  the  public  by  zealous  patriots  are  made  known,  that 
applause  and  disapprobation  take  their  origin;  it  was 
here  that  arose  the  triumph  of  Burdett  when  he  left  the 
Tower,  and  the  curses  on  Castlereagh  when  he  descended 
into  the  tomb ;  it  is  here  that  begins  the  censure  or  the 
approval  of  a  new  law  ;  and  it  is  here  that  the  rewards  of 
desert,  or  the  rebuffs  of  demerit,  are  prepared  against  the 
time  of  election.  The  tavern  is  the  forum  of  the  English, 
with  this  difference,  that  here  there  is  no  dispute  or  con- 
test Whether  from  the  climate,  temperament,  or  educa- 
tion, whatever  may  be  the  reason,  certain  it  is,  that  in 
these  taverns  more  quietness,  order,  and  decorum,  are 
observed,  than  in  our  churches  :  and  these  tavern  states- 
men, after  they  have  filled  themselves  full  of  beer  and 
mixed  liquors,  instead  of  seeking  for  quarrels,  fall  directly 
on  the  pavement,  "  as  falls  a  body  dead." 

In  the  summer,  John  Bull  likes  after  dinner  to  cheer 
his  eyes  with  a  glimpse  of  the  country  and  the  green. 
The  nation  altogether  has  a  particular  love  for  trees 
and  flowers.  The  lord  has,  in  his  parks,  oaks  of  a 
thousand  years'  growth,  untouched  by  the  axe, — hot- 
houses full  of  exotic  plants,  exquisite  fruits,  and  the 


36  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

rarest  flowers ;  there  is  not  a  cottage  in  England  which 
has  not  before  it  a  little  piece  of  ground  for  the  cultiva- 
tion of  flowers ;  and  even  the  poor  town  imprisoned 
artisan  works  at  his  loom  in  sight  of  pots  of  flowers, 
placed  on  the  window  sill  (with  a  mind  no  less  generous 
than  my  lord's,)  in  order  that  the  passengers  also  may 
enjoy  the  sight  of  them.  The  love  of  flowers  is  in  itself 
a  great  sign  of  civilisation. 

From  time  immemorial  there  have  existed  in  England 
footpaths  for  general  use  across  the  fields  belonging  to 
private  individuals.  Some  years  ago  the  land  owners, 
every  where  insatiable,  endeavoured  to  close  these  foot- 
ways, and  deprive  the  public  of  the  healthful  and  inno- 
cent recreation  of  walking  in  them.  What  was  the 
consequence  ?  In  almost  every  county  a  society  has 
been  formed  for  defending  the  rights  and  recreations  of 
the  people.  This  will  sufficiently  show  how  nearly  the 
people  have  their  rights  at  heart, — and  how  dearly  they 
love  their  rural  walks. 

In  the  neighbourhood  of  London  there  are  a  great 
many  gardens,  planted  with  large  and  shady  trees, 
called  Tea  Gardens^  where  the  workmen  with  their  fa- 
milies go  to  take  tea  after  dinner,  or  to  drink  the 
"  nut-brown  ale."  One  of  the  most  beautiful  of  these 
is  Cumberland  Garden,  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames, 
near  Vauxhall.  All  over  the  gardens  are  scattered  a 
number  of  clean  little  tables,  around  which  are  collected 
groups  of  four  or  six  workmen,  smoking  with  long 
white  earthen  pipes,  (which  are  supplied  by  the  landlord, 
filled  with  tobacco,  for  a  penny,)  leaning  back,  and 
throwing  forth  from  time  to  time  with  the  clouds  of 
smoke,  some  imperfect  sentence,  just  as  we  read  Cor- 
poral Trim  and  the  captain  did,  in  Tristram  Shandy. 
He  who  has  not  experienced  the  luxury  of  repose  after 
five  or  six  days'  fatigue,  cannot  conceive  how  these 


IN  ENGLAND.  37 

men,  speaking  little  and  moving  less,  are  nevertheless 
most  happy  in  this  living  statue-like  condition.  Not  an 
instrument  is  to  be  heard,  not  a  single  note  of  music, — 
nothing  meets  the  ear  but  the  buzz  of  the  talkers,  who 
speak  in  an  under  tone; — while  the  boats,  full  of  people, 
keep  coming  and  going  by  the  Thames.  On  our  lakes, 
we  are  accustomed  to  hear  musical  instruments,  with 
their  vocal  accompaniments,  and  vintage  songs.  For 
the  want  of  these  the  English,  who  are  passionately 
devoted  to  music  and  poetry,  are  not  to  be  blamed  :  the 
protestant  religion  does  not  admit  of  diversion  on  the 
Sunday,— it  demands  the  consecration  of  it  to  contempla- 
tion, to  seriousness,  to  self-examination, — without,  how- 
ever, denying  the  consolations  of  the  bottle.  In  Scot- 
land, where  the  religion  of  Calvin  prevails,  the  Sunday  is 
still  more  silent  and  gloomy ;  with  some  a  smile  is  almost 
thought  a  profanation.  On  this  day  of  absolute  inac- 
tion, the  barbers  are  scarcely  permitted  to  exercise  their 
necessary  trade  after  nine  in  the  morning. 

On  the  continent  there  is  great  talk  of  the  swearing 
of  the  English, — of  their  tremendous  "G — d  d — n." 
I  believe,  for  my  part,  that  a  Venetian  gondolier  or  a 
Bolognese  carrier,  swears  more  than  a  thousand  Eng- 
lishmen put  together :  besides,  I  have  observed,  in  all 
the  public  houses,  a  notice  from  the  magistrates  hung 
up,  threatening  to  punish  with  a  fine  any  person  who 
should  make  use  of  an  oath. 

Whoever  has  formed  an  idea  of  the  English  from  the 
finest  poem  of  Voltaire  (which  I  will  not  name,  though 
every  body  has  read  it),  would  be  surprised  to  find  the 
rosy  cheeks  and  robust  athletic  forms  he  talks  of, 
changed  into  the  pallid  faces,  and  weak,  unsteady 
frames,  that  characterise  the  mechanics  who  frequent 
these  gardens.  The  spade  improves  a  population, — 
but  the  loom  spoils  it.  What  a  difference  between  a 


38  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

Scotch  Highlander  and  a  Glasgow  weaver !  The  0110 
still  retains  the  well  knit  and  athletic  form  of  the  war- 
riors described  by  Ossian :  legs  like  the  marble  column 
of  Lena,  a  breast  high  and  ample  as  a  cuirass,  the 
colour  of  vigour  in  his  cheeks,  in  all  his  deportment  the 
fire  and  mettle  of  health  and  strength  : — the  other,  on 
the  contrary,  is  lean,  ill-made,  old  before  his  time,  and 
feeble  in  his  gait.  What  a  contrast  between  an  English 
coachman  and  a  Manchester  spinner  !  The  former  is  the 
very  model  of  a  lusty  Bacchus, — the  latter  of  a  prisoner 
for  life. 

The  deterioration  of  the  population  is  a  disadvantage 
of  manufacturing  states  that  has  never  yet  been  suffi- 
ciently considered.  I  made  it  my  business  to  seek  for 
some  statistics  of  the  manufacturing  classes,  in  order  to 
discover  their  maladies  and  usual  length  of  life,  but  did 
not  succeed  in  discovering  any,  and  I  believe  none  are 
to  be  found.  It  is  difficult  in  fact,  to  procure  any  that 
can  be  relied  on,  from  the  continual  removal  of  the 
workmen  from  place  to  place.  Some  physicians  of 
Manchester  have  endeavoured  to  spread  the  belief,  that 
the  duration  of  life  is  the  longest  in  those  cities  where 
manufactures  have  most  increased.  It  is  a  pity  Moliere 
is  not  alive!  He  would  here  have  a  fine  subject  for 
raising  a  laugh  at  the  expense  of  quackery  ! — The  as- 
sertion  has  not  gained  the  slightest  belief  from  those 
philanthropists  who  are  exerting  themselves  to  provide 
a  remedy  for  the  damage  which,  they  are  too  well  per- 
suaded, his  recluse  and  sedentary  life  must  do  to  the 
manufacturer.  Some  of  these,  for  instance,  Mr.  Brougham 
and  Mr.  Hume,  have  encouraged  the  establishment  of 
schools  for  gymnastics,  where,  in  the  hours  of  rest,  the 
workmen  may  exercise  their  limbs  in  strengthening 
and  diverting  sports.  The  most  persevering  of  them 
all,  Mr.  Owen,  after  having  introduced  even  dancing  into 


IN  ENGLAND.  39 

his  stupendous  manufactory  of  New  Lanark,  between 
Edinburgh  and  Glasgow,  invented  a  new  plan  of  labour, 
consisting  of  occupation  alternately  in  agriculture  and 
manufactures,  and  went  to  America  to  try  the  experi- 
ment. The  classes  of  workmen  are  more  or  less  ill- 
looking  according  to  the  character  of  their  trades  ;  the 
population  of  Birmingham  and  Sheffield,  employed  prin- 
cipally in  forges  and  iron  works,  present  a  much  finer 
and  stronger  appearance  than  that  of  Manchester  and 
Glasgow,  which  is  almost  entirely  imprisoned  in  cotton 
factories. 

When  1  made  some  of  these  remarks  at  Liverpool,  to 
one  of  the  many  intelligent  and  well-informed  me- 
chanics of  that  city,  he  informed  me  that  in  the  last 
war  with  France,  the  regiments  recruited  from  that 
most  industrious  county — Lancashire, — were  distin- 
guished above  the  rest  for  their  bravery.  This  may 
very  well  be,  since  it  is  not  the  practice  in  the  present 
day  to  fight  hand  to  hand.  There  is  no  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  artificers  make  bad  soldiers,  as  the  Romans 
believed  them,  and  as  the  Florentines  of  the  middle  ages 
proved  themselves.  In  Persia,  where  the  strength  of  an 
army  still  lies  in  the  cavalry,  a  service  which  requires 
strength  and  peculiar  dexterity,  the  inhabitants  of  the 
manufacturing  cities  do  not  turn  out  to  be  good  soldiers. 
But  the  war  of  modern  times,  in  Europe,  depends  on 
bravery  and  discipline  ;  the  English  armies,  who  are  in 
these  respects  exemplary,  are,  for  a  good  third  part, 
composed  of  artificers. 

The  division  of  labour,  so  essential  to  the  rapidity  and 
the  perfection  of  manufactures,  and  so  much  in  use  in 
England,  is  injurious  to  the  development  of  the  mental 
faculties  of  the  artizan,  or  even,  perhaps,  is  fatal  to  it. 
With  what  ideas  can  his  mind  be  enriched  by  that  shut- 
tle, that  wheel,  or  that  spindle,  which  moves  incessantly 


40  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

and  unvaryingly  before  his  eyes  twelve  hours  in  the  day? 
"  The  result,"  says  M.  Say,  "  is  a  degeneracy  in  man, 
considered  as  an  individual.  It  is  a  sad  account  to  give 
of  one's  self, — that  one  has  never  made  any  thing  but  the 
eighteenth  part  of  a  pin !"  If  the  workmen  did  not  enjoy 
the  incalculable  advantage  of  his  companions'  society, 
which  in  his  hours  of  rest  awakes  him,  electrifies  him, 
and  invigorates  all  his  faculties,  and  had  not  always  be- 
fore him  the  endless  panoramas  which  are  constantly 
presented  from  his  living  in  a  city,  he  would  become,  at 
the  end  of  a  few  years,  a  perfect  automaton.  In  fact,  in- 
stead of  saying  that  a  master  manufacturer  employs  such 
a  number  of  workmen,  it  is  commonly  said,  that  he  em- 
ploys such  a  number  of  hands ^  as  if  the  journeymen  had 
really  no  heads.  The  Broughams,  the  Humes,  the  Bur- 
detts,  the  Aliens, — the  protectors  and  protected  of  these 
classes, — were  well  aware  of  this  evil,  and  set  themselves 
zealously  to  work  to  discover  the  remedy.  They  hit  upon 
the  idea  of  establishing  libraries  for  mechanics  in  every 
city  in  the  kingdom.  These  are  only  open  for  two  hours 
in  the  evening ;  they  contain  histories,  voyages,  and  tra- 
vels, models  of  machines,  &c.  The  subscription  for  a 
quarter  is  only  eighteen-pence  English.  Not  content 
with  these,  they  founded  in  the  most  populous  cities, 
professorships  of  mechanics  and  of  chemistry  applied  to 
the  arts.  In  London,  more  than  1500  operatives  contri- 
bute each  a  guinea  a-year  for  admission:  this  year  a 
working  shoemaker  gained  a  prize  of  ten  guineas  for  an 
essay  on  geometry.  Some  months  ago  a  society  was 
formed  "  for  the  diffusion  of  useful  knowledge,"  which 
publishes  and  distributes  every  month  a  great  number  of 
elementary  treatises  on  all  the  branches  of  the  great  tree 
of  human  knowledge.  The  Sunday  papers,  and  the  fre- 
quent public  meetings  which  the  mechanics  attend,  and 
where  the  most  eloquent  speakers  address  the  multitude 


IN  ENGLAND.  '41 

on  public  affairs,  are  an  aliment  and  a  stimulus  to  their 
minds.  Mr.  Hume,  in  the  house  of  commons,  on  the 
13th  December,  1826,  declared  that  the  stamp-duty  on 
newspapers  was  far  too  heavy  in  England.  In  the  United 
States,  the  population  of  which  is  little  more  than  half 
that  of  Great  Britain,  there  are  590  newspapers ;  while 
in  Great  Britain,  on  account  of  the  weight  of  the  taxes, 
there  are  no  more  than  484.  He  gave  notice,  after  these 
details,  that  he  should  move  for  a  reduction  of  the  duty, 
at  least  on  those  weekly  papers  which  are  chiefly  intend- 
ed for  the  working  classes.  Mr.  Brougham,  who  is  am- 
bitious of  making  that  popular  instruction  he  has  so 
wonderfully  promoted  a  durable  monument  to  his  name, 
with  his  accustomed  eloquence,  seconded  the  proposal. 
The  influence  that  the  press  must  exercise  in  a  state 
where  it  is  free,  must  (I  would  repeat  it  a  thousand 
times)  be  incalculable.  I  will  venture  to  say,  that  its  in- 
fluence must  be  greater  than  that  of  religion  itself!  It  is 
from  these  fountains  that  public  opinion  springs  forth ; 
and  this  is  alone  sufficient  to  correct  all  the  errors  of 
legislation,  and  restrain  all  the  abuses  of  power.  It  is  a 
real  panacea.  The  newspapers  are  the  "  daily  bread"  of 
morning  and  evening  to  every  Englishman.  So  greedy 
is  the  public  for  its  food,  that  the  Times,  not  content  with 
printing  eleven  hundred  copies  an  hour,  has  improved 
their  steam-press  to  such  a  degree,  that  now  it  prints  no 
less  than  four  thousand  copies  an  hour, — seventy  in  a 
minute, — but  that  on  one  side  only. 

Ortes,  our  too  highly  praised  and  too  much  depre- 
ciated political  economist,  maintains  that  commerce  en- 
riches only  the  upper  classes,  accumulating  wealth  in  the 
hands  of  a  few,  and  leaving  the  mass  of  labourers  always 
in  the  same  state  of  misery.  The  tea  gardens  which  I 
am  describing  are  in  themselves  a  complete  refutation  of 
this  idea.  The  visiter  observes  with  amazement  the 
4* 


42  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

crowds  of  clean  shaved  artisans,  dressed  in  good  clothes, 
with  boots  on  their  feet,  linen  shirts  on  their  backs, 
watches  in  their  pockets,  silk  kerchiefs  round  their 
necks, — lodging  in  comfortable  houses,  sleeping  in  clean 
feather  beds,  taking  tea  twice  a  day,  and  eating  wheaten 
bread  and  butcher's  meat  every  day  in  the  year.  Were 
they  in  so  good  a  condition  when  the  commerce  of  Eng- 
land was  neither  so  flourishing  nor  so  extensive  as  now  ? 
The  old  men  of  the  country,  the  current  traditions,  the 
ancient  houses  still  standing,  and  many  other  irrefraga- 
ble testimonies,  prove  to  the  contrary, — that  houses,  beds, 
furniture,  clothing,  food,  every  thing,  were  much  inferior. 
The  reason  of  this  difference  is  manifest.  When  com- 
merce is  in  a  prosperous  state,  the  demand  for  goods 
always  increasing,  and  consequently  favourable  to  the 
workmen,  they  can  keep  up  the  price  of  their  handicraft. 
It  is  now  a  demonstrated  truth,  that  the  wages  of  work- 
men are  not  only  in  proportion  to  the  price  of  provisions, 
but  also  to  the  relation  between  the  supply  and  demand 
of  labour.  Besides  this,  machinery  and  the  division  of 
labour  having  reduced  the  price  of  many  articles  hitherto 
consumed  only  by  the  higher  and  middle  classes,  they 
have  come  to  be  in  general  use ;  the  present  wardrobe  of 
a  mechanic,  although  better  than  that  which  one  of  his 
class  would  have  had  sixty  years  ago,  does  not  perhaps 
cost  near  so  much. 

It  is  nevertheless  true,  that  the  introduction  of  steam 
engines  has  already  taken  away  from  some  kinds  of 
workmen  this  advantage  as  consumers,  by  competing 
with  them  as  producers,  and  reducing  them  to  that  dis- 
tress which  has  been  experienced  for  some  years  past. 
These  vast  machines,  which  do  the  work  of  several  mil- 
lions of  mechanics,  are  so  many  gigantic  rivals  of  men. 
While  the  other  classes  of  artisans,  such  as  smiths,  car- 
penters, dyers,  glaziers,  &c.,  earn  from  thirty  to  sixty 


IN  ENGLAND.  43 

shillings  a  week,  or  more,  the  weavers  and  spinners, 
working  twelve  hours  a  day,  can  hardly  obtain  fifteen  or 
eighteen,  even  at  the  time  that  trade  is  briskest.  They 
are  not  only  physically  inferior  to  the  former  classes  of 
workmen,  but  are  also  most  unhappy  beings.  At  a  meet- 
ing held  in  January,  1825,  by  the  cotton-spinners  of 
Manchester,  to  deliberate  on  the  best  method  of  improv- 
ing their  condition,  one  of  them  rose  to  observe,  that  in 
the  early  days  of  cotton  spinning  the  workmen  were  well 
paid,  and  quite  at  liberty ;  but  that  during  the  last  fifteen 
years,  the  masters,  by  the  introduction  of  steam-engines, 
had  heaped  up  riches,  and  increased  their  own  comforts, 
while  the  journeymen  had  gradually  descended  lower 
and  lower  in  the  scale  of  society ;  their  wages  had  been 
diminished,  and  their  labour  increased.  Then,  after  de- 
scribing the  miserable  life  they  lead  in  a  hot  suffocating 
atmosphere,  and  the  various  maladies  to  which  they  are 
subject,  he  exclaimed,  "  Look  around  and  behold  these 
squalid  countenances,  and  thes"e  emaciated  bodies!  Look 
at  myself,  not  twenty-five  years  of  age,  yet  already  older 
than  the  man  who  stands  at  my  side, — a  sailor  of  fifty. 
See  to  what  a  wretched  lot  we  are  condemned.  From  the 
age  of  six,  most  of  us  are  buried  in  a  cloud  of  cotton 
dust,  in  a  suffocating  and  unwholesome  air;  exposed  to 
the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold,  denied  the  needful  repose 
for  our  weary  limbs,  oppressed  with  intolerable  fatigue, 
and  at  thirty,  we  enter  upon  a  miserable  old  age : — our 
children  are  stinted  in  their  growth,  and  our  indepen- 
dence, sustained  by  untiring  industry,  is  reduced,  in 
some  of  us,  to  the  sad  necessity  of  asking  charity,  cap  in 
hand,  at  the  corners  of  the  streets,  of  the  poorest  of  the 
passers  by !" 

This  lamentable  picture,  in  which  there  is  much  ex- 
aggeration, as  in  all  the  harangues  of  demagogues,  an- 
cient and  modern, — over  artisans  dying  of  hunger  in  the 


44  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

very  centre  of  a  nation  wallowing  in  wealth,  brought  to 
my  mind  the  naked  Romans,  who  by  the  mouth  of  Grac- 
chus, complained  that  after  so  many  provinces  had  been 
conquered  by  the  republic,  they  had  not  a  span  of  earth 
wherein  to  lay  their  bones. 

"And  ye,  O  Romans! 

Ye  who,  with  steel  encumber'd,  to  grim  death 
Your  lives  expose  each  day  for  country-sake, — 
Ye  masters  of  the  world, — who  of  the  world 
Possess  but  that  which  can't  be  ta'en  away, 
The  air  and  light  of  heav'n — roaming  the  fields, 
Till  iron-hearted  hunger  pulls  ye  down — 
Ye  have,  to  bear  ye  fitting  company, 
Your  wretched  wives,  and  naked,  famish'd  offspring, 
Crying  for  bread!" 

Monti,  Gains  Gracchus,  Act  3. 

It  would  seem  that  eiripires  are  like  men,  who  resem- 
ble each  other  in  their  virtues  and  their  faults. 

Some  English  political  economists,  who  pay  attention 
more  to  the  wealth  than  the  happiness  of  a  country,  ob- 
serve, in  reply  to  these  complaints,  that  if  it  be  true  that 
these  classes  do  not  live  comfortably,  it  is  quite  as  true 
that  without  steam-engines  they  could  not  live  at  all.  It 
is  certain  that  Arkwright,  by  the  invention  of  cotton- 
spinning  machinery  in  1765,  and  Watt,  by  the  applica- 
tion of  steam  to  it  in  1779,  gave  their  country  a  decisive 
superiority  over  the  industry  of  other  nations,  although 
at  the  same  time  they  deteriorated  the  condition  of  per- 
haps a  million  of  mechanics,  and  gave  rise  to  a  production 
much  greater  than  the  demand :  without  these  two  won- 
derful discoveries,  England  would  most  likely  have  lost 
her  superiority  in  manufactures,  on  account  of  the  high 


IN  ENGLAND.  45 

rate  of  wages,  which  is  partly  an  effect  of  the  high  price 
of  food. 

If,  then,  some  workmen,  as  I  have  already  observed, 
injure  their  health  in  the  spinning  factories,  there  are 
many  more  who  destroy  themselves  from  an  immoderate 
desire  for  gin,  which  induces  them  to  labour  harder  than 
a  due  regard  to  their  health  would  allow.  Adam  Smith, 
in  his  great  work,  observed,  that,  where  prices  are  high, 
workmen  are  always  found  more  diligent,  active,  and  ex- 
pert, than  where  they  are  low ;  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
great  cities,  for  instance,  more  than  in  remote  parts  of  the 
country.  Some  men,  indeed,  when  they  can  earn  in  four 
days  enough  to  maintain  themselves  all  the  week,  choose 
to  remain  idle  on  the  other  three.  This,  however,  does  not 
happen  with  the  largest  portion.  On  the  contrary,  the 
industrious,  when  they  are  liberally  paid,  in  ready  money, 
are  generally  disposed  to  labour  excessively,  and  so  un- 
dermine their  health,  and  ruin  their  constitution  in  a  few 
years.  "  It  is  calculated,"  says  Smith,  "  that  a  London 
carpenter  does  not  continue  in  his  full  vigour  more  than 
eight  years."  It  is  nearly  the  same  with  some  other 
trades,  in  which  it  is  the  custom  to  pay  the  workman  as 
soon  as  his  work  is  finished,  and  even  with  farm  labour, 
when  the  wages  are  higher  than  usual.  I  have  endea- 
voured to  procure,  but  could  not  succeed,  the  book  which 
the  Italian  physician  Ramuzzini  wrote,  in  the  last  cen- 
tury, especially  on  the  peculiar  diseases  produced  by 
excessive  application  to  one  particular  species  of  labour. 


46  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 


SAILORS. 


Whoever  wishes  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  another 
class  of  Englishmen,  not  less  interesting  than  the  me- 
chanics, must  descend  into  one  of  those  narrow  by-streets 
near  London  Bridge,  which  lead  to  the  Thames.  The 
sailors,  those  sons  of  the  ocean,  are  like  the  amphibious 
animals,  which,  even  when  on  land,  always  keep  close  to 
the  water.  One  day  I  took  it  into  my  head  to  walk  into 
one  of  the  numerous  public  houses  which  stand  in  these 
alleys,  to  see  what  metamorphoses  those  silent  and  se- 
rious beings  undergo  on  land,  in  whose  company  I  had, 
at  various  times,  spent  eight  months  on  shipboard.  How 
changed  did  I  find  friend  Jack  from  what  I  had  seen 
him  at  sea !  No  longer  serious,  no  longer  quiet,  no  longer 
silent ;  but  joyous,  noisy,  and  singing :  the  room  on  the 
ground  floor,  into  which  I  entered,  was  involved  in  a 
thick  cloud  of  tobacco  smoke,  which  almost  hindered  me, 
at  first,  from  distinguishing  the  dramatis  persona.  I  had 
not  yet  taken  my  seat,  when  one  of  them,  with  a  gait 
any  thing  but  steady,  and  reeling  like  a  ship  in  a  storm, 
with  a  face  the  colour  of  mahogany,  from  the  effect  of 
the  tobacco  and  liquors,  offered  me  some  of  his  "  grog ;" 
that  is,  brandy  mixed  with  water  without  sugar, — which 
is  the  nectar  of  these  heroes  of  the  deep,  I  accepted  it 


IN  ENGLAND.  47 

without  hesitation,  but  the  pewter  pot,  from  which  my 
generous  friend  had  been  drinking-,  was  empty,  and  the 
poor  fellow  had  not  perceived  it.  It  had,  in  fact,  so  com- 
pletely  slipped  his  memory,  that  he  had  already  tossed 
off  all  this  ambrosia,  that  he  made  a  similar  offer  to  every 
body  that  came  in.  He  did  not  on  that  account  lose  his 
credit  with  me,  because  I  know  that  sailors,  who  are 
hearts  of  oak  when  they  are  at  sea,  are  hearts  of  butter 
when  at  a  tavern,  and  generous  as  Caesar  himself.  The 
cheeks  of  the  English  sailor  are  not  those  sleek  and 
florid  cheeks  which  the  climate  naturally  produces,  nor 
are  they  of  a  tall  and  bulky  make,  like  farmers  of  the 
island.  Their  faces  are  bronzed,  or,  to  express  it  better 
with  one  of  those  enviable  English  epithets  composed  of 
two  words  braced  together,  they  are  weather-beaten* 
They  are  in  general  of  the  middle  height,  but  large 
across  the  shoulders ;  their  limbs  clean  made  and  sinewy, 
and  all  their  movements  free  and  unconstrained.  When 
they  are  walking,  you  observe  in  them  a  confidence  in 
their  own  strength,  and  the  audacity  of  a  health  proof 
against  every  thing.  They  traverse  the  streets  with  an 
indifference  which  is  natural  to  them,  as  if  cities  were 
not  made  for  them,  or  as  if  they  were  people  who  had 
seen  things  more  wonderful  than  a  city.  Their  large 
trowsers,  their  open  jacket  and  shirt  collar,  their  round 
hat,  or  plaid  bonnet,  all  their  dress,  in  fine,  contributes 
to  make  them  appear  more  active,  more  free  and  easy. 
It  is  well  known  that  they  never  wear  boots,  because 
they  use  hands  and  feet  indifferently;  they  are  four- 
handed  or  four-footed  just  as  they  will.  Their  eyes  are 
not  sparkling,  but  they  are  intrepid,  and  express  very 
well  the  heart  of  oak  in  their  breasts.  Their  counte- 
nance generally  denotes  intelligence;  frankness  and 
generosity  are  stamped  on  it ;  one  would  say,  that  none 
of  these  faces  had  ever  told  a  lie. 


48  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

In  a  corner  of  the  room  there  was  a  group  of  these 
mariners,  who  were  singing  one  of  their  sea  songs,  with 
the  burden  "  Haul  away,  yeo  ho,  boys !"  the  cry  with 
which  they  accompany  any  exertion  made  in  concert: — 

"  British  sailors  have  a  knack, 
Haul  away,  yeo  ho,  boys ! 
Of  pulling  down  a  Frenchman's  jack, 
'Gainst  any  odds,  you  know,  boys ! 
Come  three  to  one,  right  sure  am  I, 
If  we  can't  beat  'em,  still  we'll  try 
To  make  old  England's  colours  fly, 
Haul  away,  yeo  ho,  boys ! 

"  British  sailors  when  at  sea, 
Haul  away,  yeo  ho,  boys ! 
Pipe  all  hands  with  merry  glee, 
While  up  aloft  they  go,  boys  ; 
And  when  with  pretty  girls  on  shore, 
Their  cash  is  gone,  and  not  before, 
They  wisely  go  to  sea  for  more, 

Haul  away,  yeo  ho,  boys ! 

"  British  sailors  love  their  king, 

Haul  away,  yeo  ho,  boys! 
And  round  the  bowl  they  love  to  sing, 

And  drink  his  health,  you  know,  boys ! 
Then  while  his  standard  owns  a  rag, 
The  world  combined  shall  never  brag 
They  made  us  strike  the  British  flag, 
Haul  away,  yeo  ho,  boys  1" 

When  these  had  finished  their  song,  which  was  duly 
knocked  down  by  their  leathern  hands,  a  second  group 
struck  up  another  of  their  favourite  songs,  "  Hearts  of 
Oak." 


IN  ENGLAND.  49 

A  fiddler,  who  had  in  the  mean  time  entered  with  his 
creaking  instrument,  now  struck  up  a  ree/,  a  kind  of 
Scotch  dance,  much  in  favour  with  the  lower  classes  in 
England.  Of  all  the  English,  the  sailors  are  the  most 
galvanic;  above  all,  when  they  have  emptied  two  or  three 
cans  of  grog, — 

"  For  if  sailor  ever  took  delight  in 

Swigging,  kissing,  dancing,  fighting, 
Damme,  I'll  be  bold  to  say  that  Jack's  the  lad!" 

At  this  sound,  as  if  it  had  been  the  signal  for  battle, 
all  jumped  on  their  legs,  and  began  throwing  their  feet 
about,  for  I  cannot  say  they  danced.  To  get  out  of 
the  way  of  this  tempest  of  kicks,  I  mounted  a  small 
flight  of  stairs,  and  entered  a  second  room,  which  pre 
sented  another  picture  in  the  style  of  Teniers.  It  was 
exactly  like  that  I  had  left,  except  that  by  the  round  hat 
of  glazed  leather,  by  the  jacket  and  trowsers  of  blue 
cloth,  in  fine,  by  the  uniformity  and  superior  neatness 
of  their  dress,  I  perceived  that  the  seamen  belonged  to 
the  royal  navy.  In  their  faces,  though  flushed  with 
liquor,  the  impression  of  discipline  and  obedience  was 
still  visible ;  and  although  their  deportment  and  gestures 
exhibited  nothing  of  insolence,  they  betrayed  neverthe- 
less more  of  arrogance  and  presumption  than  the  others, 
although  not  so  much  as  is  generally  exhibited  on  the 
continent  (I  know  not  why)  by  soldiers'  of  the  line.  They 
were  singing  the  national  anthem,  composed  by  the  poet 
Thomson,  the  author  of  "  The  Seasons,"  about  a  century 
ago, — "  Rule,  Britannia." 

It  was  thus,  perhaps,  in  the  days  of  their  glory  and 

freedom,  that  the  Venetians  sung  in  the  "  holds"  of  their 

magic  city,  their  victory  over  some  Turkish  fleet.     At 

the  present  day  they  have  substituted  for  those  martial 

5 


50  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

songs  "  Visin  di  Nina,"  and  "  La  Biondina  in  Gonrfo- 
letta;"— "The  Face  of  Nina,"  and  "The  Fair-haired; 
Girl  of  the  Gondolet:"  even  songs  are  sufficient  to  mark 
the  revolutions  of  the  wheel  of  fortune.  With  this  me- 
lancholy reflection  I  left  these  merry  mariners,  and 
quitted  the  tavern. 

It  is  to  the  seamen  of  the  royal  navy,  well  clothed, 
well  fed,  and  of  martial  aspect,  that  England  owes  the 
inviolability  of  her  coasts,  her  glory,  and  her  trident.  In 
the  "  Roderick  Random"  of  Smollett  (the  best  of  his 
novels),  where  his  hero  is  another  Gil  Bias,  who  passes 
through  all  conditions  of  life,  some  of  the  customs  and 
characteristics  of  these  sailors  may  be  found  described. 
The  author  draws  from  nature ;  he  had  for  a  long  time 
served  on  board  a  frigate,  in  the  capacity  of  surgeon's 
mate.  The  visiters/to  St.  Paul's  and  Westminster  Abbey 
are  surprised  at  the  prodigious  number  of  monuments 
they  find  there  to  the  memory  of  admirals,  vice-admirals, 
and  captains,  who  have  gained  naval  victories.  These 
magnificent  mausoleums  are  testimonies  of  the  national 
gratitude  to  the  dead,  as  the  superb  hospital  of  Green- 
wich is  the  testimony  of  their  gratitude  to  the  living.  It 
would  have  been  impossible  to  select  a  more  appropriate 
and  comfortable  situation  for  the  invalided  veteran.  The 
building  is  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  and  before  it,  in 
full  sail,  pass  every  moment  the  vessels  which  are  arriv- 
ing from  and  departing  for  the  different  parts  of  the 
world.  This  sight  nourishes  in  them  the  most  pleasing 
illusions  and  recollections,  and  the  park,  which  is  an- 
nexed to  the  little  town  of  Greenwich,  affords  them  solitary 
walks,  where  they  can  call  to  mind,  beneath  the  shade 
of  aged  trees,  their  past  vicissitudes.  English  benevo- 
lence is  ingenious  in  rendering  the  benefit  bestowed 
complete,  and  even  pleasing.  The  hospitals  in  England 
are,  in  general,  placed  on  the  most  agreeable  sites,  as  at 


IN  ENGLAND.  51 

one  time  used  to  be  the  case  with  our  convents.  The 
English  poets  have  almost  all  contributed  encomiums  on 
the  valour  of  their  seamen. 

I  look  upon  the  English  as  highly  favoured  by  fortune, 
in  the  possession  of  poets,  who  use  the  magic  endowed 
upon  their  craft  to  make  every  one  believe  his  own  lot 
and  his  own  station  the  most  enviable.  We  reproach  the 
English  with  being  downcast  and  melancholy ;  but  we 
ought  to  add  that  they  are  not  querulous.  They  labour 
indefatigably  to  better  their  condition,  without  whining 
and  whimpering,  and  at  the  same  time  draw  from  their 
present  condition  all  the  profits  and  the  pleasures  it  can 
afford.  I  say  this  in  reference  to  those  stanzas  of  Byron, 
in  which  he  eulogises  life  on  shipboard : 

"  He  that  has  saiPd  upon  the  dark  blue  sea, 

Has  view'd  at  times  I  ween  a  full  fair  sight, 
When  the  fresh  breeze  is  fair  as  breeze  may  be, 
The  white  sail  set — :the  gallant  frigate  tight!" 

This  life,  which  to  a  cavalier  servente,  or  a  regular 
play  goer,  would  appear  more  horrible  than  imprison- 
ment in  the  dungeons  of  the  Inquisition,  or  of  Spielberg, 
is  described  by  Byron  in  his  Childe  Harold  with  the 
same  sense  of  pleasure  with  which  Tasso  paints  the  gar- 
den of  Armida.  The  "  little  warlike  world"  collected  in 
a  frigate, — the  "  well-reeved  cannon," — the  "  hoarse  com- 
mand,"— the  "  humming  din,"  when  at  a  word  the  "  tops 
are  manned  on  high," — the  "  docile  crew,"  guided  by 
the  shrill  pipe  of  the  "schoolboy  midshipman," — the 
white  and  "  glassy  deck,  without  a  stain,"  "  where  on 
the  watch  the  staid  lieutenant  walks," — the  part  kept 
sacred  for  the  lone  captain,  "  silent  and  fear'd  by  all,"  to 
preserve  "  that  strict  restraint"  which  may  not  be  broken 
without  balking  "  conquest  and  fame," — the  swiftly 


52  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

blowing  "  gale," — the  waves  that  "  gaily  curl"  before  the 
"  dashing  prow," — the  "  convoy  spread  like  wild  swans 
in  their  flight," — all  these  objects  are  dwelt  upon  with  a 
great  and  partial  fondness. 

This  is  not  mere  caprice  or  extravagance  on  the  part 
of  the  poet.  These  stanzas  of  Byron  are  beautiful,  be- 
cause  they  are  also  true.  There  is  not  an  English  cap- 
tain who  is  not  in  love  with  his  vessel, — his  little  world, 
which  he.  prefers  to  the  Palais  Royal.  When,  after  ninety 
days'  sail,  we  made  the  port  of  Dublin,  our  captain,  in- 
stead of  landing,  as  I  did,  to  view  the  stupendous  city, 
which  he  had  never  seen,  remained  on  board  for  five  or 
six  days,  with  a  more  than  philosophic  indifference. 

What  a  loss  to  Italian  glory  that  so  many  poets  have 
thrown  away  their  harmonious  verses  on  so  many  Lau- 
ras and  Phillises,  who  never  existed — and  so  many  princes, 
who  were  never  made  to  be  the  heroes  or  the  themes 
of  either  verse  or  prose,  instead  of  celebrating  the  daring 
naval  enterprises  of  the  ancient  Genoese,  or  the  many 
sea  victories  of  the  Venetians !  Tasso  has  indeed  devoted 
two  beautiful  stanzas  of  his  fifteenth  canto  to  Columbus, 
— but  the  discovery  of  a  new  world  demands  a  national 
poem  at  least  as  loudly  as  the  passage  of  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope,  by  Vasco  de  Gama,  called  for  the  Lusiad  of 
Camoens !  Mr.  Rogers,  a  living  English  poet,  has  writ- 
ten a  poem  of  several  cantos  on  the  voyage  of  Columbus ; 
but  partial  as  I  am  to  English  poetry,  and  highly  as  I 
esteem  the  poetical  talents  of  that  author,  the  flight  of 
his  muse  appears  to  me  beneath  the  loftiness,  variety, 
and  dignity  of  the  subject.  The  poet  who  would  sing  the 
praises  of— 

"  The  naked  pilot,  promiser  of  thrones," 
should  have  his  imagination  filled  and  fired  with  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  53 

martial  and  romantic  exploits  of  the  Genoese,  from  the 
time  of  the  Romans  to  the  present,  perhaps  the  only  peo- 
ple whose  inborn  and  indomitable  courage  has  not  become 
degenerate.  He  should  roam  through  those  Tillages  of 
the  Riviera  di  Ponente  which  lie  on  the  shores  of  the 
Mediterranean;  should  study  the  ardent  and  enduring 
character  of  the  countrymen  of  Columbus,  at  once  citi- 
zens of  the  world  and  adorers  of  their  native  land ;  should 
admire  the  sobriety  of  their  lives,  the  tranquil  resignation 
with  which  they  support  their  extreme  poverty,  and  the 
modesty  of  their  manners ;  should  observe  their  active, 
full  nerved,  vigorous  limbs,  their  daring  and  vivacious 
eyes,  which  express  their  readiness  to  take  to  the  sea, 
whatever  the  weather,  without  asking  to  what  part  of  the 
world  they  are  to  go :  a  daring  which  appears  the  more 
striking  from  their  haughty  and  spirited  glance,  the  red 
bonnet  hanging  over  one  ear,  and  their  half  naked, 
brawny,  leather  coloured  limbs.  The  poet  will  perceive 
that  the  religious  spirit  of  Columbus  is  a  feeling  common 
to  his  countrymen ;  they  fear  none  but  God ;  but  their 
religious  sentiments  are  perhaps  pushed  a  little  far,  so 
that  these  new  argonauts  are  like  their  fabled  prototypes, 
bold  indeed,  but  over  superstitious. 

The  sailors  of  the  English  men  of  war  are  as  war- 
riors more  glorious,  but  as  mariners  less  interesting, 
than  those  of  the  merchant  service.  A  vessel  of  war  is 
always  exposed  to  less  danger  of  shipwreck  than  a  mer. 
chantman,  from  the  strength  of  its  build,  the  abun- 
dance of  its  stores,  and  the  greater  number  of  hands  to 
man  the  sails.  It  makes  fewer  voyages,  and  sees 
fewer  countries,  because  in  time  of  peace  it  is  often 
in  port,  and  in  time  of  war  it  is  often  for  several 
years  on  a  cruise,  continually  ploughing  the  self-same 
space  of  sea  before  the  blockaded  port  of  an 
enemy.  Finally,  on  board  of  these  vessels  there  is  a 
5* 


54  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

sort  of  division  of  labour ;  the  duty  of  every  one  is 
chalked  out  for  him,  or  at  least  it  is  only  seldom  and 
by  turns  that  the  seamen  are  employed  in  different 
manoauvres.  When  the  day  of  battle  arrives,  although 
to  the  English  sailor  it  is  always  like  the  signal  of 
death,  he  is  nevertheless  inspirited  by  the  hope  of  glory, 
inflamed  by  the  example  of  his  messmates ;  and,  if  he 
survives,  mutilated  by  the  bullet  or  the  steel  of  the  foe, 
he  sees  before  his  eyes  the  splendid  hospital  of  Green- 
wich, which  awaits  him  for  his  reward,  like  the  palace 
of  the  Houris,  promised  by  Mahomet  to  the  brave  who 
die  in  battle.  Very  different  indeed  is  the  fate  of  the 
seamen  of  the  merchant  service.  A  vessel  of  300  tons 
goes  to  the  end  of  the  world,  with  a  crew  of  nine  or  ten 
men.  It  is  impossible  to  imagine  the  activity  and  cou- 
rage they  must  exhibit  in  a  storm,  the  fatigue  and  peril 
they  must  undergo,  sometimes  for  a  whole  day — for 
two  or  three  days  together.  Here  is  the  glory,  herein 
lies  the  superiority  of  the  English  seamen  over  all  other 
European  sailors.  Others  may  have  as  much  courage  J 
the  Greek  is  quicker,  the  Genoese  more  sober,  but  the 
Englishman  is  supreme  in  the  terrible  tempest  of  the 
sea :  the  rain,  the  hail,  the  wind,  the  whole  fury  of  the 
waves,  may  rage  and  rave  against  him,  but  he  resists 
and  fulfils  his  duty :  his  strength  seems  multiplied  a 
hundred  fold,  and  he  places  his  glory  in  conquering  na- 
ture !  He  seems  made  of  the  rock  itself !  I  was  one 
day  admiring  the  beautiful  white  biscuit,  the  juicy 
slices  of  salt  beef,  the  unlimited  number  of  potatoes, 
which,  every  day,  with  a  little  variation,  form  the  din- 
ner of  the  sailors,  who  have,  besides  their  tea  morning 
and  evening,  a  plate  of  salt  meat:  the  captain,  who  saw 
my  surprise,  observed  to  me,  "  In  a  storm  my  crew  pay 
me  this  again  with  interest."  This  class  of  mariners 


IN  ENGLAND.  55 

make  more  voyages  than  the  others,  and  see  a  variety 
of  different  countries: 

"  He  travels  and  expatiates  as  the  bee, 
From  flower  to  flower ;  so  he  from  land  to  land ; 
The  manners,  customs,  policy  of  all, 
Fay  contribution  to  the  store  he  gleans ; 
He  seeks  intelligence  in  every  clime, 
And  spreads  the  honey  of  his  deep  research 
At  his  return." — Cowper. 

The  craving  for  variety  becomes  such  a  habit  in  sea- 
men, that  it  is  a  rare  thing  for  one  of  them  to  make 
two  voyages  in  the  same  ship  and  under  the  same  captain. 
When,  in  a  few  days,  he  has  squandered  in  taverns  all 
the  hard  earnings  often,  twelve,  or  fourteen  months,  he 
offers  himself  to  some  captain  on  the  point  of  sailing, 
who  throws  a  glance  over  his  certificates,  and  examines 
his  whole  person  most  attentively,  that  he  may  not  be 
deceived  as  to  health,  strength,  and  agility  ;  and  the 
agreement,  simple  in  its  conditions,  is  signed.  The 
wages,  in  time  of  peace,  are  from  forty  to  fifty  shillings  a 
month,  besides  the  victuals,  to  be  paid  altogether  on 
the  completion  of  the  voyage,  or  in  half  or  third  por- 
tions at  the  place  of  the  vessel's  destination.  Scarcely 
has  the  vessel  returned  to  England,  and  discharged  her 
cargo,  before  the  sailor  pockets  his  pay.  From  a  poor 
man  he  suddenly  finds  himself  a  rich  one,  in  the  posses- 
sion of  fifteen  or  twenty  pounds  sterling.  His  long  pri- 
vation of  pleasure  changes  the  public-house,  in  his  eyes, 
to  an  enchanted  palace.  This  money  seems  to  him  an 
inexhaustible  treasure,  like  that  called  forth  by  the 
lamp  of  Aladdin.  He  apparently  renounces  all  his 
former  virtues,  he  forgets  all,  he  abandons  himself  to 
the  most  extravagant  caprice,  he  buys  every  thing  he 


56  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

sees, — a  turnip,  a  watch,  a  warming  pan,  or  a  pair  of 
spurs;  and,  ignorant  of  the  snares  which  beset  his 
every  step  upon  land,  unmindful  of  himself,  of  his  rela- 
tions, of  the  future,  of  his  most  urgent  necessities,  he 
dissipates,  in  a  few  days,  all  the  gains  of  a  year  of  exer- 
tion. It  was  a  saying  of  Charles  the  Second,  which 
has  become  proverbial,  that  "  Sailors  get  money  like 
horses,  and  spend  it  like  asses."  At  length  the  dream 
ceases,  the  illusions  vanish,  the  fumes  of  the  liquor  dis- 
perse ;  he  looks  around, — he  finds  himself  ill  clad,  with- 
out a  friend  or  a  relation  ;  [he  presents  himself  to  a  new 
captain,  and  starts  for  another  part  of  the  world,  under 
a  new  sky,  amidst  another  sea,  surrounded  by  new  and 
unknown  companions. 

The  seaman  is  a  sort  of  Robinson  Crusoe;  afloat,  he 
practises  almost  every  trade.  Of  all  mechanical  profes- 
sions, this  is  the  one  which  affords  the  most  instruction, 
and  developes  in  the  highest  degree  the  moral  and 
physical  faculties.  Besides  the  smattering  of  astro- 
nomy which  he  acquires, — besides  the  foreign  lan- 
guages and  the  foreign  manners  with  which  he  becomes 
acquainted,  the  mariner  learns  how  to  mix  paint  for 
the  boats  and  many  articles  on  board,  mends  the  ropes, 
sews  the  sails,  and  must,  on  occasion,  play  the  part  of 
carpenter,  blacksmith,  butcher,  cook,  and  washerman. 
He  is  perpetually  in  motion,  and  exercises  equally  all 
parts  of  the  body,  arms  as  well  as  legs,  feet  as  well  as 
hands ;  he  is  bent  when  he  rows,  or  reefing  and  unreef- 
ing  the  sails ;  he  stands  erect  when  he  guides  the  helm ; 
he  runs  when  the  vessel  is  to  be  tacked ;  he  balances 
himself  on  the  mast-head ;  he  ascends  and  descends  the 
shrouds  with  the  rapidity  of  a  squirrel.  There  is  no 
system  of  gymnastics  which  developes  so  impartially 
the  powers  of  all  parts  of  the  human  frame,  the  eye  in- 
cluded,— as  the  art  of  navigation. 


IN  ENGLAND.  57 

The  order,  the  regularity,  the  discipline,  which  pre* 
vail  in  the  narrow  space  of  an  English  merchant  brig, 
are  wonderful.  The  face  of  the  captain  is  always  se- 
vere, the  tone  of  his  voice  always  sharp  and  imperious. 
No  seaman  may  speak  to  the  captain  first,  unless  on  a 
point  of  duty ;  no  seaman  is  allowed  to  make  remon- 
strances or  observations  on  the  captain's  orders.  A 
smile  never  passes  over  his  countenance;  nor  does  a 
word  of  approbation  or  encouragement  ever  escape  him. 
The  men  are  confined  to  the  forecastle,  and  woe  be  to 
them  if  they  step  on  deck,  except  upon  duty, — it  is  the 
sanctum  sanctorum  of  the  captain  and  the  passengers. 
The  most  profound  silence  always  reigns  among  them,  ex- 
cept that  you  occasionally  catch  a  gentle  whisper.  With- 
out this  inexorable  severity,  how  could  the  captain,  se- 
conded only  by  his  mate,  exact,  in  the  very  middle  of  the 
ocean,  a  prompt  and  blind  obedience  ?  Even  in  spite  of 
it,  conspiracies  and  revolutions  sometimes  occur  among 
the  nine  or  ten  individuals  shut  up  in  so  confined  a 
space,  so  impracticable  is  it  to  govern  the  human  spe- 
cies !  An  English  captain  always  keeps  his  crew  busy 
about  something  or  other,  even  during  a  calm.  This  is 
also  an  expedient  to  prevent  their  taking  a  disgust  to 
their  occupation.  Captain  Parry,  as  soon  as  he  had 
seen  his  vessel  made  snug  for  her  winter  station  of  five 
or  six  months,  when  on  his  voyage  to  attempt  the  dis- 
covery of  a  northwest  passage,  hit  upon  the  idea  of 
erecting  a  theatre,  giving  concerts,  and  setting  up  a 
school  for  teaching  reading  and  writfng  to  his  hardy 
mariners ;  so  anxious  did  he  feel  to  provide  remedies 
for  weariness,  and  to  keep  the  minds  of  his  crew  con- 
stantly occupied. 

It  was  not  till  after  I  had  witnessed  the  effects  of  this 
strict  order  and  discipline,  and  the  continual  handling  of 
the  sailsr  that  I  felt  the  full  force  of  the  maxim,  that 


58  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

without  a  merchant  navy  a  maritime  force  cannot  exist. 
It  is  universally  admitted  in  England,  that  the  best 
sailors  on  board  the  English  fleet  are  those  who  have  been 
bred  up  in  merchant  vessels.  They  have  had  a  school 
of  greater  suffering,  industry  and  experience,  than  those 
brought  up  on  board  a  frigate.  Between  these  two  kinds 
of  sailors  there  is  the  same  difference  as  between  a  regi- 
ment of  the  line  and  a  band  of  guerillas  ;  the  soldiers  of 
the  line  dazzle  the  most,  because  they  often  decide  the 
fate  of  empires, — the  guerillas  acquire  less  glory,  al- 
though individually  they  possess  more  bravery,  and  are 
much  more  exposed  to  fatigue,  to  famine,  and  the  sword. 
Sunday  is,  if  possible,  observed  by  the  English  wher- 
ever they  may  be.  On  that  day,  the  silence  even  on 
board  ship  is  still  more  gloomy  than  ever ;  every  one 
is  shaved,  every  one  puts  on  a  clean  shirt,  every  one  en- 
deavours to  display  more  neatness  than  usual  in  his 
dress.  Some  read  a  few  pages  in  the  Bible ;  religion  is 
a  comfort  to  their  minds,  rather  than  a  terror.  The 
Englishman  has  no  other  intercessor  with  the  Supreme 
Being  than  his  own  prayers.  He  hopes  for  no  other  mi- 
racles than  those  which  spring  from  his  own  courage, 
and  the  discharge  of  his  duty.  In  a  storm,  the  Spaniard, 
and  even  the  Greek,  although  a  good  sailor,  throw  them-* 
selves  on  their  knees  before  some  image,  to  which  a 
light  is  continually  burning,  and  in  the  mean  time  the 
sails  and  the  vessel  are  under  the  control  of  the  winds 
and  waves ;  the  sighs  and  signs  of  contrition  of  the  de- 
votees only  serving  to  increase  the  confusion  and  dis- 
may. The  Englishman,  on  the  other  hand,  fulfils  his 
duty,  displays  all  his  firmness  of  mind  and  strength  of 
body,  struggles  with  death  even  to  the  last  moment,  and 
only  when  he  has  exhausted  in  vain  all  the  resources 
of  his  skill,  and  all  the  energies  of  his  frame,  gives  him- 
self up  to  his  fate,  raises  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  bows  to 


IN  ENGLAND.  59 

the  will  of  Providence.  They  are  not  indeed  so  thoroughly, 
devoid  of  prejudice  as  a  philosopher  of  the  eighteenth 
century ;  some  believe  in  ghosts,  in  hobgoblins,  and  pro- 
phetic voices  which  rise  from  the  hollow  of  the  deep, — 
but  in  the  hour  of  danger  they  no  longer  recollect  these 
illusions,  and  see  nothing  but  the  reality  before  them, 
and  see  it  without  affright.  I  read  in  the  "  Mariners' 
Register"  (which  is  a  collection  of  official  reports  made 
to  the  Admiralty  of  shipwrecked  vessels),  miracles  of 
constancy,  patience,  and  intrepidity,  displayed  by  sea- 
men to  save  their  ships,  and  afterwards  their  own  lives. 
One  feels  a  proud  complacency  in  seeing  man  in  contest 
with  the  monstrous  force  of  ocean,  and  generally  tri- 
umphant over  it ;  in  seeing  him,  when  struck  upon  a 
rock  in  the  middle  of  the  deep,  calculating  on  what  day 
the  frail  bark  will  be  entirely  swallowed  up,  and  in  the 
mean  time  labouring  at  the  construction  of  a  boat ;  and, 
when  the  hour  of  the  total  submersion  of  the  vessel  is 
arrived,  descending  into  his  fragile  skiff,  and,  with  a 
scanty  supply  of  provisions,  commencing  a  voyage  of  six 
hundred  or  a  thousand,  miles,  and  then  arriving  at  some 
inhospitable  land.  Another  time  you  behold  him  in  the 
Pacific  ocean,  in  a  little  boat,  after  having  lost  his  vessel, 
steeping  his  cloak  in  the  sea,  to  protect  himself  from 
the  scorching  rays  of  the  sun;  then,  for  want  of  water, 
extending  his  sails  and  collecting  in  them  the  rain  which 
kind  Heaven  sends  him.  A  poet  of  some  reputation  in 
England,  but  in  my  opinion  of  very  mediocre  talents, — 
Falconer, — has  written  a  poem  entitled  "The  Ship- 
wreck." It  is  a  cold  story  of  a  vesel  which,  sailing  from 
Cyprus  to  Candia,  near  Cape  Colonna  (the  ancient  Sce- 
nium),  is  thrown  by  a  tempest  on  the  rocks,  and  dashed 
to  pieces.  There  is  a  minute  description  (in  some  de- 
gree the  general  defect  of  English  poets,  great  and 
small)  of  all  the  manoeuvres  and  expedients  employed  by 


60  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

the  English  captain,  without  any  of  those  great  strokes 
of  the  pencil  such  as  Virgil  gives,  when  he  describes  the 
sea  storm  which  overtook  the  wandering  JEneas,  whose 
ships  now  rise  to  the  summit  of  a  mountain  wave,  now 
sink  to  the  very  bottom  of  the  sea  ;  and  without  that  in- 
terest which  Homer  excites  for  Ulysses,  when  alone  on 
a  raft  he  is  thrown  by  the  wind  here  and  there,  up  and 
down  by  the  raging  sea, — at  one  time  cast  on  the  waves, 
then  catching  hold  of  his  raft  again,  till  at  last  he  com- 
mits himself  to  the  waters,  and,  cleaving  them  with  his 
breast  and  both  his  brawny  arms,  clutches  at  a  rock 
with  his  outstretched  hands, — 

"  And  then  Ulysses  on  the  rock  the  skin 
Of  his  strong  arms  did  leave;" 

and  afterwards  gets  upon  land  breathless  and  speech- 
less, spouting  water  from  his  mouth  and  nostrils. 

There  is  much  more  poetry  in  the  true  statements  of 
the  Mariners'  Register,  than  in  the  fiction  of  Falconer. 
This  Register  was  to  be  found  on  board  of  every  ship  I 
ever  sailed  in ;  at  first  it  seemed  strange  that  a  sea  cap- 
tain should  like  to  read  so  funereal  a  chronicle,  in  which, 
as  it  were,  his  own  fate  is  described ;  but  I  have  since 
reflected,  that,  just  as  land  officers  read  with  interest  the 
accounts  of  battles  and  sieges,  and  instead  of  being  cast 
down  by  them,  are  inspired  with  courage,  and  inflamed 
with  emulation,  so  may  a  seamen  learn  from  these  nar- 
ratives not  only  to  die  with  intrepidity,  but  to  use  all 
the  various  methods  for  his  own  preservation. 

On  an  occasion  of  some  peril,  I.  had  an  opportunity  of 
witnessing  in  my  own  person  the  bravery  of  this  race  of 
men.  In  coming  from  Smyrna,  after  three  thousand 
miles  of  pleasant  sailing,  and  seventy-three  days  of 
weariness  and  impatience,  as  we  were  entering  the  port 


IN  ENGLAND.  61 

of  Carlingford,  forty-five  miles  north  of  Dublin,  (where 
the  vessels  are  sent  to  undergo  quarantine,)  in  the  dusk 
of  the  evening  we  struck  on  a  bank  :  at  the  shock  of  its 
striking,  and  the  long  grating  screak  that  announced  it, 
the  nine  English  sailors  who  were  on  deck  turned  pale, 
but  remained  firm  and  collected.  Not  a  cry,  not  a  com- 
plaint was  heard :  all  had  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  captain, 
whose  orders  they  awaited  ;  he  slapping  his  hands  on  his 
thighs  exclaimed,  "  What  a  joke  /" 

The  first  remedy  was  to  spread  all  sail  to  the  wind,  to 
try  if  this  would  release  us  from  the  rock  to  which  we 
seemed  to  be  nailed  down  :  in  vain.  The  second  expe- 
dient was  to  cast  an  anchor,  and  attempt  by  means  of 
the  capstan  to  move  the  vessel :  still  in  vain.  The  third 
resource  was,  not  to  despair.  As  we  did  not  yet  know 
whether  the  banks  were  rocky  or  not,  a  trial  was  made 
with  the  pump  to  see  if  the  vessel  made  any  water. 
Fortunately,  it  did  not.  Our  hopes  were  now  placed  on 
the  next  tide ;  the  hour  of  its  rising  was  anxiously  looked 
for  :  it  comes ;  every  inch  is  observed,  is  measured,  but 
the  tide  does  not  rise  high  enough.  The  ship,  however, 
still  continues  tight  and  sound.  The  second  tide  is  ex- 
pected with  still  greater  anxiety ;  a  higher  flow  favours 
us,  and  wjth  anchors  and  capstan  we  at  last'work  our- 
selves off  this  bank  of  evil  augury,  after  forty  hours  of 
exertion.  The  captain,  an  excellent  man  and  a  skilful 
navigator/ was  all  this  while  indefatigable;  but  when 
we  had  got  out  of  the  danger,  he  fell  ill  of  a  fit  of  the 
gout,  through  the  anxiety  he  had  suffered,  and  several 
times  bled  at  the  nose.  The  vessel  belonged  to  him, 
and,  with  his  property,  he  would  have  lost  his  reputation 
also.  Again  we  set  sail,  and  went  to  take  our  post  on 
quarantine.  What  a  horrible  thing  is  quarantine  on 
board  ship !  A  dirty  yellow  flag  warns  others  of  the 
disease  with  which  you  are  perhaps  infected  ;  men  fly 
6 


62  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

your  breath,  your  touch ;  they  watch  from  what  quar- 
ter the  wind  blows  to  speak  to  you ;  instead  of  the 
friendly  hand,  the  boatmen  extends  towards  you  an  iron 
clasp  to  receive  your  letters ;  in  the  night,  a  small  light 
burns  on  the  mainmast,  to  warn  other  ships  to  avoid 
you,  like  a  rock  or  a  whirlpool ;  two  sentinels  come  on 
board,  to  keep  you  in  strict  confinement ;  three  times  a 
day  the  quarantine  officer  summons  all  on  board  before 
him,  to  ascertain  that  no  disease  is  concealed.  The 
quarantine  is  a  temporary  exile  from  the  world  and  from 
mankind.  It  was  in  these  fifteen  days,  of  which  every 
minute  was  counted,  that  I  learnt  from  the  captain 
many  particulars  of  the  life  and  manners  of  seamen. 

In  time  of  war,  among  ten  English  sailors,  it  may  be 
reckoned  one  is  married,  and  in  time  of  peace,  one  in 
eight.  This  proportion  is  much  greater  in  all  other 
nations,  varying  according  to  the  extent  and  distance  of 
the  commerce  they  carry  on.  The  Italian  sailors  of  the 
Mediterranean,  and  the  Greeks  of  the  Archipelago,  who 
very  rarely  leave  behind  them  the  pillars  of  Hercules, 
are  for  the  most  part  married,  because  their  voyages  are 
of  short  duration,  and  they  can  often  return  to  the  bo- 
soms of  their  families  :  but  the  English,  who  by  the 
immeasurability  of  their  commerce  are  citizens  of  the 
world,  would,  if  they  were  i.iarried,  too  seldom  enjoy 
their  home.  Hence  very  few  lay  by  for  an  event  they 
do  not  think  of,  and  in  old  age  do  not  hope  for.  How 
could  they  feel  affection  for  their  families,  whom  from 
infancy  they  have  abandoned?  Besides,  when  they  are 
on  land — 

"  A  girl  and  fiddle  always  make  a  sailor  glad." 

Hence  if  through  disease,  or  some  other  misfortune,  one 
of  them  becomes  invalided,  he  has  no  other  resource  than 


IN  ENGLAND.  63 

to  beg  through  the  streets,  singing  with  a  voice  har- 
monious as  thatof  Boreas,  "  The  Crippled  Tar,"  or  "  The 
Lullaby,"  or  some  other  of  the  countless  naval  ditties  of 
which  the  English  people  are  so  fond.  The  poet 
Crabbe,  still  living,  the  truest  painter  of  the  manners  of 
the  English  vulgar,  has,  in  his  tale  in  verse,  "  The 
Brothers,"  painted  to  the  life  the  miserable  end  of  a 
sailor,  who,  having  in  his  best  days  improvidently 
squandered  his  gains,  finds,  when  he  has  lost  a  leg, 
nothing  but  contempt  and  insult  in  the  house  of  his 
own  brother,  who  is  married  to  a  fury  of  a  woman,  and 
at  last  dies  of  anguish.  This  same  painter-poet,  in 
another  little  poem,  "  The  Justice  Hall,"  introduces  a 
wretched  street-walker  as  coming  before  the  justice, 
with  a  baby  in  her  arms ;  she  has  been  by  turns  the 
concubine  of  two  sailors,  father  and  son,  and  implores 
no  other  favour  from  the  magistrate,  than  to  listen  to 
the  series  of  her  crimes  and  her  misfortunes,  which  are  in 
truth  of  such  a  nature  that  they  make  one  shudder  with 
horror.  Crabbe  is  entirely  the  reverse  of  Cowper;  they 
are  like  Heraclitus  and  Democritus,  "Jean  qui  pleure, 
et  Jean  qui  rit."  Cowper  sees  every  thing  of  the  colour 
of  roses ;  all  is  virtue,  all  is  happiness  in  England,  ac- 
cording to  him  ;  Crabbe  sees  every  thing  with  a  jaundiced 
eye, — all  is  wickedness,  misery,  and  vice.  If,  there- 
fore, the  stranger  lends  an  ear  to  each  of  them,  he  will 
find  the  truth  more  easily  by  their  combined  assistance. 
Crabbe  is  like  the  party  of  the  opposition,  for,  to  hear 
him,  England  has  the  worst  laws,  and  administration  of 
them ;  Cowper  is  like  the  minister,  when  he  speaks  of 
the  reign  of  George  the  Fourth,  and  paints  it  as  though 
it  were  that  of  Saturn.  Both  are  exaggerators ;  but 
poetry,  it  must  be  remembered,  is  not  history. 


64  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 


THE    OPPOSITION  IN  THE   HOUSE  OF 
COMMONS. 


Between  the  hall  of  the  house  of  commons,  and  those 
of  the  representative  bodies  of  the  other  nations  which 
I  have  seen,  there  is  the  same  difference  as  betwixt  the 
house  of  a  rich  man  of  yesterday,  and  an  old  established 
gentleman  of  family.  In  the  former,  all  is  new  and 
glittering  ;  in  "  good  taste,"  and  of  the  last  fashion  ;  in 
the  latter,  every  thing  is  antique,  but  solid  and  massive, 
of  a  piece  with  the  walls  and  the  age  in  which  it  was 
built.  In  the  former,  you  discern  the  ostentatious 
showiness  of  that  which  is  new  and  not  customary ;  in 
the  latter,  the  negligence  of  riches,  and  the  habitude  of 
long  possession.  The  chamber  of  deputies  at  Paris,  the 
halls  of  the  cortes  at  Madrid  and  at  Lisbon,  were  new, 
like  the  institutions  themselves ;  the  English  house  of 
commons  is  old,  like  the  liberty  that  inhabits  it.  tlappy 
that  country  where  liberty  can  boast  of  ages  for  its 
ancestors,  and  dwells  from  age  to  age  in  gothic  edifices. 
If  the  house  of  commons  were  as  old  as  the  Druids,  the 
members  of  parliament  ought  to  dwell  in  the  trunks  oi: 
trees,  like  that  ancient  priesthood.  He  who  enters  the 
hall  of  the  English  parliament  with  the  idea  that  he  is 
about  to  see  a  Milanese  or  Neapolitan  theatre,  will  be 


IN  ENGLAND.  65 

deceived  in  his  expectations.  There  is  not  a  choir  or 
refectory  of  Franciscan  friars  which  is  not  as  elegant 
and  majestic  as  this  hall,  or  perhaps  more  so ;  but  if  he 
enters  it,  on  the  contrary,  with  the  idea  that  he  is  visit- 
ing one  of  the  oldest  of  the  temples  of  liberty,  he  will 
contemplate  every  object  with  that  veneration  with 
which  we  behold  the  heavy  columns  of  the  temple  of 
Pa3stum,  or  the  dreary  catacombs  of  Rome. 

Fashion,  luxury,  pleasure,  conventional  beauty,  are 
powerful  in  England,  but  they  are  not  triumphant. 
Over  elegance  has  not  yet  spoiled  that  taste  for  nature, 
which  is  the  prevailing  characteristic  of  the  nation. 
Dress  and  manner,  compliments  and  salutes,  all,  even  to 
the  conclusion  of  letters,  is  redolent  of  simplicity.  The 
English  are,  perhaps,  the  best  horsemen  in  the  world  ; 
that  is,  the  firmest  in  the  saddle ;  yet  they  make  no 
show  of  it.  They  are  the  lightest  motioned  of  all  in 
gymnastics ;  almost  all  of  them  can,  like  their  horses, 
leap  hedges,  ditches,  and  gates,  yet  when  they  dance, 
they  scarcely  raise  their  feet  from  the  ground.  They 
are,  perhaps,  or  even  without  a  perhaps,  the  best  ex- 
temporaneous orators  in  the  world  ;  yet  they  never  study 
either  gesture  or  declamation.  In  February,  1828,  Mr. 
Brougham  delivered  a  speech  in  parliament,  on  the  re- 
form necessary  in  the  civil  laws  of  England,  which 
lasted  six  hours  and  four  minutes.  Be  it  remembered, 
that  four  columns  of  an  English  newspaper  are  reckoned 
equal  to  one  hour.  There  is  no  example,  either  among 
the  ancients  or  moderns,  of  so  long  an  extemporaneous 
speech  of  the  deliberative  kind.  We  all  know  that  the 
Romans  studied  declamation  as  we  study  music,  and 
that  Caius  Gracchus  had  a  man  with  a  pitch  pipe  behind 
him,  who  gave  him  notice  when  it  was  necessary  to 
change  the  modulation  of  his  voice.  Our  actors  often 
6* 


66  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

go  to  study  attitude  and  drapery  in  the  statues  of  the 
ancient  orators :  Csesar,  when  he  fell  wounded  to  death, 
did  not  forget  nobility  of  position.  Although  the 
Spaniards  were  not  accustomed  to  public  speaking,  it 
was  beautiful  to  see  the  noble  gesticulations  of  the 
eloquent  Martinez  de  la  Rosa,  and  the  movements  of  his 
large  black  eyes ;  and  to  hear  him  change  with  exquisite 
art  the  tones  of  his  strong  and  most  sonorous  voice. 
Galiano,  too,  another  of  the  eloquent  members  of  the 
Cortes,  gesticulated  so  theatrically,  that  his  enemies 
said  he  tried  his  speeches  beforehand  at  a  looking-glass. 
Why  not  ?  Cicero  took  letters  from  Roscius,  Roscius 
took  lessons  from  his  mirror, — or  the  equivalent  of  a 
mirror,  as  all  good  actors  do.  There  is  none  of  this 
elegance  or  this  affectation,  which  ever  it  may  best  be 
called,  in  England;  they  rise  dressed  just  as  it  happens, 
gesticulate  like  a  windmill,  or  perhaps  not  at  all,  like  a 
phantom ;  and  for  several  hours  change  the  modulation 
of  the  voice  no  more  than  a  Scotch  bagpipe.  The 
minister,  Canning,  in  the  heat  of  speaking,  used  to 
thump  with  his  right  hand  on  a  small  wooden  box  which 
stood  before  him,  like  a  blacksmith  raising  up  and  bring- 
ing down  his  hammer.  His  rival,  Brougham,  tall,  thin, 
convulsed  in  the  muscles  of  his  face,  crosses  when  he 
speaks  both  arms  and  legs,  exactly  like  one  of  our  bone- 
less fantoccini.  Not  even  their  actors,  for  example,  the 
chief  of  them,  Kean,  employ  those  architectural  attitudes 
which  the  actors  of  other  nations  make  use  of.  Their 
artifice  consists  in  following,  not  the  dictates  of  art,  but 
those  of  nature.  I  confess,  however,  that,  in  my  opinion, 
the  members  of  parliament  ought  sometimes  to  em- 
bellish nature  a  little. 

It  is  well  known  that  in  the  English  parliament  an 
orator  never  reads,  but  always  improvises.  Every  thing 
is  spontaneous,  every  thing  shows  the  man,  every  thing 


IN  ENGLAND.  67 

belongs  to  the  speaker.  But  what,  perhaps,  is  not  so 
well  known,  is  that  the  orators  have  not  a  ridiculous 
repugnance  to  retracting  what  may  have  escaped  them, 
in  spite  of  themselves,  in  the  warmth  of  debate.  An 
Englishman  is  not  ashamed  to  unsay  an  injurious 
expression  which  he  never  had  any  intention  to  say. 
It  is  an  act  of  justice  which  does  him  honour  before  both 
friend  and  enemy.  The  English  regard  duelling  as  the 
last  and  desperate  remedy  of  inexorable  honour.  In  the 
famous  parliamentary  debate  on  the  12th  of  December 
1826,  respecting  the  war  between  Spain  and  Portugal, 
Canning  had  allowed  himself  to  be  carried  away  by  the 
torrent  of  his  eloquence  beyond  the  prescribed  bounds. 
In  a  few  days  after  he  undertook  the  publication  of  his 
own  speech,  and  omitted  that  part  which  in  cold  blood 
he,  perhaps,  would  not  have  uttered.  The  retractation 
so  surprised  me  at  first,  that  I  could  not  help  saying,  in 
the  presence  of  an  English  gentleman,  that  "  I  had 
thought  only  philosophers  and  drunken  men  retracted 
what  they  had  said :"  the  gentleman  replied,  with  the 
national  imperturbability.  "  These  recantations  are  just 
and  proper,  because  the  extemporaneous  speaker  is  in  a 
state  of  excitement,  which  often  carries  him  beyond 
himself." 

He  who  arrives  for  the  first  time  in  England,  and 
goes  to  the  house  of  parliament,  runs  the  risk  of  forming 
a  very  erroneous  idea  of  the  opposition  party,  as  occur- 
red in  my  own  case.  All  the  surrounding  circum- 
stances conspire  to  lead  him  into  error.  In  the  first 
place,  he  sees  a  hundred  or  a  hundred  arid  twenty  oppo- 
sition members  against  four  or  five  hundred.  It  appears 
therefore  as  if  there  were  an  insuperable  arithmetical 
barrier.  He  hears  an  excellent  speech,  but  it  produces 
nothing  but  the  sarcasms  of  the  opposite  party.  Weak, 
and  always  overpowered  by  numbers,  flie  members  of 


68  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

the  opposition  are  condemned  to  serve  the  nation  with- 
out station  and  without  public  honours.  The  chorus 
which  derides  their  efforts  is  that,  too,  which  continually 
sings  the  praises  of  the  ministers.  It  is,  then,  a  useless 
martyrdom,  voluntary  and  senseless  as  that  which  the 
Fakeers  impose  on  themselves.  For  what  does  the  op- 
position sit  ? — for  the  pleasure  of  saying  "  No !"  It  is 
at  best  a  mere  professorship  of  eloquence.  This  is  what 
every  one  says  to  himself  on  his  first  view  of  the  party 
in  opposition.  But  he  soon  changes  his  opinion  when 
he  studies  more  profoundly  the  national  organisation  of 
England,  and  becomes  familiar  with  the  history  of  par- 
liament. In  the  first  place,  he  perceives  that  if  the  op- 
position does  not  conquer,  it  at  least  hinders  the  enemy 
(whoever  he  may  be,  liberal  or  not,)  from  abusing  his 
victory,  or,  consummating  an  unjust  conquest.  It  is 
like  the  dike  of  a  river,  which  cannot  assist  its  current, 
but  keeps  it  in,  and  compels  it  to  follow  its  course. 
The  advantage  of  the  opposition  does  not  consist  so 
much  in  the  good  that  it  effects,  as  in  the  evil  that  it 
prevents.  It  keeps  awake  the  attention,  the  patriotism, 
the  distrust  of  the  people ;  it  propagates  in  general  the 
right  opinions,  it  is  the  born  protector  of  the  injured 
and  the  oppressed,  the  harbinger  of  all  improvements,  of 
all  liberal  institutions.  Suppose  that,  by  accident,  the 
opposition  is  composed  of  persons  in  favour  of  absolute 
power:  to  procure  adherents,  they  will  be  obliged  to 
mask  their  sentiments,  to  hold  the  language  of  justice 
and  freedom, — like  those  proud  and  tyrannic  Roman 
patricians,  such  as  the  Appii  and  Opimii,  who,  to  gain 
their  suffrages  for  the  consular  dignity,  descended  to 
mix  among  and  to  flatter  the  common  people ;  or,,  like 
Dionysius,  who,  when  on  the  throne,  crushed  out  thl 
very  blood  of  the  people,  and,  when  he  was  hurled  from* 
it,  played  the  buffoon  to  the  populace,  and  got  drunk  in 


IN  ENGLAND.  69( 

the  public  taverns.  But  the  action  of  the  minority  is 
not  immediate.  An  opinion  cannot  be  formed  and  pro- 
pagated and  popularised  in  a  few  months,  nor  some- 
times in  a  few  years.  The  abolition  of  the  slave  trade 
cost  Wilberforce  twenty  years  of  persevering  applica- 
tion. Every  year  repulsed,  every  year  he  returned  to 
the  assault,  printing  pamphlets,  convening  public  meet- 
ings of  philanthropists,  collecting  notices  and  docu- 
ments on  the  barbarous  cruelties  practised  on  board  of 
the  vessels  engaged  in  the  horrible  traffic,  and  thus  ex- 
citing the  imaginations  and  melting  the  hearts  of  his 
fellow-citizens,  he  broke  at  length  with  the  multitude 
into  the  temple  of  justice  and  triumph.  At  one  period, 
Ireland  could  not  carry  on  a  direct  commerce  with  the 
English  colonies.  How  many  strenuous  and  how  many 
fruitless  attempts  were  made  before  Grattan,  in  1779, 
obtained  the  abolition  of  this  unjust  exclusion  !  How 
many  times,  from  the  days  of  Adam  Smith  downwards, 
was  the  principle  of  freedom  in  commerce,  now  begun 
to  be  followed  by  the  present  ministry,  brought  forward 
by  the  opposition !  Thus,  parliamentary  reform,  pro- 
posed originally  by  Pitt,  in  the  first  days  of  his  career, 
when  he  found  himself  in  the  ranks  of  opposition,  is 
now  beginning  to  make  proselytes  within  the  walls  of 
parliament,  after  having  made  many  without.  Thus 
catholic  emancipation  is  probably  on  the  point  of  being 
conceded,  after  so  many  unsuccessful  endeavours  to  ob- 
tain it.  Thus  the  abolition  of  colonial  slavery  is  ano- 
ther laurel  which  the  opposition  sees  at  no  great  dis- 
tance, and  will  gather  in  no  great  length  of  time.  The 
English  opposition,  in  this  point  of  view  (let  it  be  well 
observed),  sets  an  example  to  all  nations,  all  sects,  all 

philosophers,  and all  authors,  for  without  constancy, 

few  of  them  can  hope  for  success. 

When  a  cause  is  just  at  the  beginning,  we  should 


70  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

never  despair,  however  often  we  may  be  repulsed* 
Under  the  blows  of  perseverance  fell  the  Aristotelian 
philosophy  of  the  scholastics,— fell  the  torture  and  the 
inquisition  :  under  the  same  blows  tyrants  will  fall,  in 
every  nation,  without  exception. 

It  is  not  true,  either,  that  the  opposition  is  always 
unrewarded  ;  the  Irish  made  their  countryman  Grattan 
a  present  of  fifty  thousand  pounds.  Fox  has  statues, 
anniversaries,  and  a  club,  called  after  his  name,  which 
celebrates  every  year  with  a  banquet  and  brilliant 
speeches  the  day  of  his  birth.  When  Sir  Robert  Wil- 
son was  deprived  by  the  government  of  his  rank  of 
general,  his  party  indemnified  him  with  an  annuity  for 
his  own  life  and  that  of  his  son.  Sir  Francis  Burdett, 
when  he  quitted  the  Tower  after  six  months'  imprison- 
ment, found  prepared  for  him  by  the  people  a  triumph- 
ant procession  more  enviable  than  that  of  the  ancient 
Romans.  When  Mr.  Wilberforce  passes  through  the 
crowd  on  the  day  of  the  opening  of  parliament,  every 
one  contemplates  this  little  old  man,  worn  with  age, 
and  his  head  sunk  on  his  shoulders,  as  a  sacred  relic,  as 
the  Washington  of  humanity.  This  is  a  reward  worthy 
of  such  a  man,  and  far  beyond  all  possible  golden 
fleeces,  or  all  the  strange  beasts  that  were  ever  set  in 
brilliants. 

Often,  too,  (without  any  need  of  deserting,  as  Burke 
did,)  the  inarch  of  events  carries  into  power  the  mem- 
bers of  the  opposition.  When  peace  was  to  be  made 
with  the  United  States,  in  1783,  the  ministry  which 
had  sustained  and  prolonged  the  war,  was  obliged  to 
give  place  to  those  who  had  always  opposed  it.  In  the 
same  manner,  at  the  peace  of  Amiens,  with  the  first 
consul  of  France,  Pitt,  the  fortunate,  the  eloquent  Pitt, 
had  to  yield  the  curule  chair  to  his  opponents.  The 
resistance  of  the  opposition  is  not  useful  to  the  nation 


IN  ENGLAND.  71 

ulone,  but  to  the  government  itself.  Without  it,  every 
administration  would  soon  corrupt,  and  degenerate  into 
infamy ;  and  its  existence  would  be  threatened,  either 
with  a  slow-consuming,  or  a  rapid  and  violent  destruc- 
tion. Napoleon,  at  the  time  that  every  will  bent  before 
his,  was  compelled,  in  order  to  get  at  the  truth,  to  take 
sometimes  the  advice  of  the  opposition  in  his  council  of 
state,  rather  than  that  of  his  own  ministers,  as  will  ap- 
pear upon  consulting  the  sittings  of  1809  respecting  the 
liberty  of  the  press.  In  December,  1825,  when  Mr. 
Brougham  informed  the  ministry,  that  he  intended  to 
propose  a  revision  of  the  law  of  libel,  a  newspaper  at- 
tached to  the  government,  which  was  then  opposed  to 
him,  expressed  much  pleasure  at  the  circumstance,  ob- 
serving, that  between  the  two  contrary  opinions  of  two 
first-rate  statesmen,  such  as  Brougham  and  the  secre- 
tary Peel,  there  would  be  found  a  third,  which  would 
reconcile  the  interests  of  the  liberty  of  the  press  with 
the  claims  of  justice  for  the  repression  of  its  licentious- 
ness. While  the  nation  continues  to  prosper  under  the 
principles  of  the  ministry,  the  opposition  does  nothing 
but  prevent  its  wandering  too  far  from  the  path ;  but 
when  it  feels  itself  in  a  state  of  suffering  and  decline, 
under  the  existing  management  of  affairs,  the  nation 
finds  other  principles  at  hand,  other  men  and  another 
party  already  matured,  and  prepared  to  guide  the  ves- 
sel of  the  state  in  a  different  direction.  All  republics, 
both  ancient  and  modern,  have  been  perpetually  agitated 
by  the  two  contrary  winds  of  the  aristocratic  and  demo- 
cratic factions,  and  although  the  former  at  every  step 
passed  from  the  hands  of  one  of  these  parties  into  those 
of  the  other,  they  went  on  prospering  for  several  centu- 
ries, in  the  midst  of  the  oscillation  produced  by  these 
changes.  In  a  free  government,  the  shock  of  two  par- 
ties, and  the  apparent  discord,  are  in  reality  only  a  con- 


72  THE  ITALIAN.  EXILE 

test  which  shall  render  the  country  happy.  Filangieri 
says  that  this  emulation  is  at  bottom  nothing  better 
than  the  love  of  power,  but  as  this  power  can  never  be 
attained  nor  preserved  except  by  promoting  the  general 
good,  it  can  be  no  very  great  concession  to  call  it  pa- 
triotism. The  two  opposite  forces,  which  oblige  free 
governments  to  run  along  a  middle  line,  are  like  those 
which  regulate  the  motions  of  the  celestial  bodies :  op- 
position produces  the  same  good  effects  in  the  moral 
world.  All  governments  deteriorate  into  tyranny  with- 
out it:  in  the  absence  of  criticism,  which  is  their  oppo- 
sition,— what  would  literature  and  the  arts  become  ? 
We  should  still  be  under  the  yoke  of  the  commentators 
on  Aristotle ; — we  should  still  have  the  atoms  of  Epicu- 
rus in  physics,  and  the  crystal  heavens  of  Ptolemy  in 
astronomy.  If  the  Winklemanns,  the  Mengsies,  and 
the  Milizias,  }iad  not  kept  bad  taste  within  its  bounds, 
painting  would  have  become  a  caricature,  and  architec- 
ture a  heap  of  crudities.  Except  for  criticism,  the 
Gongoras  would  still  hold  the  foremost  rank  in  Spain, 
the  Mariveaus  in  France,  the  Marinis  in  Italy :  without 
Baretti's  "literary  scourge,"  the  Arcadia  of  Rome 
would  probably  be  still  in  higher  esteem  than  the 
French  academy,  and  the  Italians  would  have  become 
so  many  Arcadian  shepherds,  with  their  pipes  hung 
round  their  necks.  Without  the  struggle  between  duty 
and  sacrifice,  would  there  be  any  virtue  or  heroism  in 
the  world  ?  What  is  England  itself  with  regard  to  the 
rest  of  Europe,  but  "the  opposition,"  which  always 
throws  its  weight  into  the  scale  on  the  side  of  the  weak 
and  oppressed,  in  order  to  preserve  the  equilibrium  ? 


IN  ENGLAND.  73 


ENGLAND, 

THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED. 


In  London,  as  well  as  in  almost  all  the  country 
towns,  there  is  a  society  which  has  for  its  object  to  pro- 
vide a  lodging  for  the  houseless.  Where  is  the  wonder, 
then,  if  England  is  herself  the  asylum  of  all  the  unfor- 
tunate ?  Venice,  in  her  days  of  glory,  was  the  sanctuary 
of  all  the  oppressed,  whether  by  kings,  by  princes,  by 
republics,  by  popes,  or  by  antipopes.  England,  which, 
in  the  importance  of  its  commerce,  and  its  dominion 
over  the  sea,  is  the  Venice  of  our  times,  displays  the 
same  universal  hospitality.  Either  from  justice  or  from 
policy,  or  from  a  sentiment  of  generosity  and  a  feeling  of 
her  power,  she  collects  under  her  vast  sBgis  all  the  con- 
quered and  the  wrecked  whoever  they  may  be.  There 
is  scarcely  a  single  nation  in  Europe  which  is  not  her 
debtor  for  protection  afforded,  at  one  time  or  another,  to 
a  number  of  its  people.  When  commerce  decayed  in 
Italy,  and  the  usurping  princes  persecuted  the  wealthy 
merchants,  many  of  these  sought  refuge  in  England ; 
and  a  street  still  remains  called  "  Lombard  street,"  be- 
cause they  took  up  their  residence  on  that  spot.  After 
the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes,  (more  fatal  to 
France  than  the  battle  of  Blenheim,)  thousands  of 
7 


74  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

French  Hugonots  took  refuge  in  England,  and  carried 
thither,  among  many  kinds  of  manufacture  not  known 
before,  that  of  silk  stuffs.  He  who  does  not  disdain  to 
study  the  history  of  human  vicissitude  in  the  dwellings 
of  filth  and  poverty,  should  go  to  Spitalfields,  where  he 
will  still  find  many  French  names  among  the  weavers, 
and  a  street  still  called  after  the  fleur-de-lys  (flowers  but 
too  thorny  for  these  poor  emigrants.)  In  the  more  re- 
cent political  storms  of  France,  England  afforded  shelter 
to  almost  all  the  French  nobility  and  princes  ;  and  a  few 
years  after  to  the  constitutionalists,  the  republicans,  and- 
the  adherents  of  Napoleon,  in  their  turn  exposed  to  perse- 
cution. And  let  it  be  observed,  that  an  asylum  like  this, 
which  is  granted  not  by  favour  or  caprice,  but  by  a  per- 
petual law  of  free  states,  to  all  the  oppressed,  is  another 
beneficent  gift  of  liberty,  which,  as  the  common  mother 
of  mankind,  wipes,  with  an  impartial  hand,  the  tears 
from  the  eyes  of  all  her  children,  and  thus  assuages  the 
ferocity  of  man,  which  would  become  still  more  cruel 
by  desperation.  Among  the  Italian  republics  of  the 
middle  ages  hospitality  was  so  common  a  virtue  as  to 
draw  from  Machiavel  the  maxim,  "  Where  banishments 
deprive  the  cities  of  men  of  wealth  and  industry,  one 
state  grows  great  by  becoming  the  asylum  of  the  ban- 
ished." 

In  1823,  London  was  peopled  with  exiles  of  every 
kind  and  every  country :  constitutionalists  who  would 
have  but  one  chamber,  constitutionalists  who  wished  for 
two ;  constitutionalists  after  the  French  model,  after  the 
Spanish,  the  American ;  generals,  dismissed  presidents  of 
republics,  presidents  of  parliaments  dissolved  at  the  point 
of  the  bayonet,  presidents  of  cortes  dispersed  by  the 
bomb-shell;  the  widow  of  the  negro  king  Christophe, 
with  the  two  princesses,  her  daughters,  of  the  true  royal 
blood,  "  black  and  all  black ;"  the  dethroned  emperor  of 


IN  ENGLAND.  76 

Mexico;  and  whole  swarms  of  journalists,  poets  and  men 
of  letters.  London  was  the  Elysium  (a  satirist  would 
say,  the  Botany  Bay)  of  illustrious  men  and  would-be 
heroes. 

What  must  have  been  the  astonishment  of  one  who 
had  seen  the  parliament  of  Naples,  and  the  two  cortes  of 
Madrid  and  Lisbon,  to  find  himself  at  the  Italian  Opera 
in  London,  with  General  Pepe,  General  Mina,  the  orators 
Arguelles  and  Galiano,  with  the  presidents  Isturiez, 
Moura,  &c.,  jostled  and  jostling  in  the  crowd  with  the 
ambassadors  of  their  adverse  governments  ?  It  was,  in 
truth,  a  sort  of  magic  vision,  worthy  of  the  great  necro- 
mancer Merlin  himself.  Often,  in  the  course  of  that 
winter,  did  the  London  Opera  house  bring  to  my  mind 
the  enchanted  palace  in  Ariosto,  where  so  many  paladins, 
friends  and  foes  of  each  other,  ran  up  and  down  the 
staircases,  without  being  able  either  to  get  out  or  to  fight. 

At  their  first  arrival,  some  of  these  wandering  cavaliers 
attracted  a  good  deal  of  attention  from  the  English 
public.  The  people  is  every  where  the  people ;  that  is  to 
say,  boobies,  ninnies.  The  newspaper  writers  ran  to 
their  lodgings  to  get  the  fag  end  of  their  lives  at  least, 
with  seme  anecdotes.  The  fashionables  took  a  delight  in 
exhibiting  a  new  **  lion,"  which  is  the  name  given  in 
England  to  any  person  of  celebrity  who  is  invited  to  an 
evening  party,  to  be  shown  as  the  wonder  of  the  day  to 
two  or  three  hundred  persons,  squeezed  together  like 
anchovies  in  a  barrel,  so  that  one  can  neither  speak  nor 
move.  This  diversion  is  called  a  rout;  but  some  prefer 
to  call  them  "  living  skeletons." 

How  soon  did  this  curiosity  pass  away !  The  exiles, 
lions  and  all,  were  speedily  buried  in  oblivion.  There  is 
no  tomb  so  vast  as  London,  which  swallows  up  the  most 
illustrious  names  for  ever  :  it  has  an  omnivorous  maw. 
The  celebrity  of  a  man  in  London  blazes  and  vanishes 


76  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

away  like  a  firework  :  there  is  a  great  noise,  numberless 
invitations,  endless  flattery  and  exaggeration,  for  a  few 
days,  and  then  an  eternal  silence.  Paoli  and  Dumourier, 
after  having  at  their  first  appearance  made  a  crash  like 
thunder,  when  they  died  excited  no  more  attention  than 
a  falling  leaf.  General  Mina,  when  he  landed  at  Ports- 
mouth, was  carried  to  his  hotel  in  triumph,  and  deafened 
with  applause,  for  a  month  together,  at  the  theatre  in 
London.  He  was  more  famous  than  the  Nemean  lion. 
What  then?  He  fell  very  soon  into  oblivion,  and  the 
grave  closed  over  his  name.  The  English  people  are 
greedy  of  novelty;  childish  in  this  alone,  it  makes  no  great 
distinction  between  good  and  bad, — they  want  only  what 
is  new.  They  pay  for  the  magic  lantern,  and  pay  well, 
but  they  always  want  fresh  figures.  To  feed  this  in- 
satiable whale,  that  always  pants  with  open  jaws, — 

"  And  after  meals  is  hungrier  than  before," 

toil  incessantly  journalists,  engravers,  historians,  travel- 
lers, philosophers,  lawyers,  men  of  letters,  poets, — min- 
isters with  schemes  for  new  enactments,  the  king  with 
schemes  for  new  palaces  and  buildings,  and  the  liberals 
with  schemes  for  parliamentary  reform.  One  honour 
that  none  can  refuse  to  the  constitutional  exiles,  was  the 
poverty  hi  which  they  were  all  plunged,  not  excepting 
those  who  had  occupied  posts  of  importance,  and  handled 
the  public  money ;  Sefior  Galiano,  who  had  been  minis- 
ter of  finance  at  Cordova,  and  the  organ  of  the  govern- 
ment in  the  cortes  for  above  a  year,  I  often  met  in 
the  streets  on  his  return  from  a  walk  of  four  miles  to 
give  a  lesson  in  Spanish ;  to  preserve  the  independence 
of  his  spirit,  he  had  the  national  pride  to  decline  the 
pension  offered  by  the  English  government.  A  friend 
of  mine  one  day  surprised  poor  Arguelles  in  his  room  in 


IN  ENGLAND.  77 

the  act  of  mending  his  trowsers, — that  Arguelles  who  had 
been  thrice  a  member  of  the  cortes, — in  1812  and  1823, 
and  had  filled  the  high  office  of  minister  for  foreign 
affairs ;  on  whose  '  divine'*  lips  it  may  be  said  that  Spain 
depended,  so  great  was  his  political  wisdom,  and  the 
fluency  of  his  eloquence.  I  had  seen  these  two  repre- 
sentatives of  the  Spanish  nation,  on  their  leaving  the 
cortes  of  Madrid,  the  day  they  answered  the  threatening 
notes  of  the  Holy  Alliance,  borne  in  triumph  to  their 
carriages  on  the  shoulders  of  a  people,  intoxicated  with 
jey  and  admiration ! 

In  the  next  spring  the  widow  of  General  Riego  died  in 
London,  consumed  more  by  grief  than  by  the  English 
climate,  which  was  nevertheless  too  severe  for  her  weak 
state  of  health.  All  the  emigrants  were  invited  to  her 
funeral,  which  took  place  at  the  catholic  chapel  in  Moor- 
fields,  within  the  city  of  London.  I  fulfilled  with  a  sen- 
timent of  pity  this  last  sad  office  towards  a  family  with 
which  I  had  been  connected  in  the  bonds  of  friendship. 
I  shall  always  remember  with  pleasure  having  been  the 
bearer  of  some  letters  from  Cadiz,  written  to  this  virtuous 
lady  by  her  husband,  the  hero  and  martyr  of  the  Spanish 
revolution.  Four  ministers  of  the  constitutional  ex-go- 
vernment held  the  pall;  very  few  among  the  many  hun- 
dred exiles  had  been  able  to  provide  themselves  with 
mourning;  and  this  in  England,  where  the  very  poorest 
of  the  people  are  able  to  show  this  great  mark  of  decency 
and  respect.  On  this  occasion,  however,  the  poverty  of 
the  mourners,  if  its  cause  be  taken  into  consideration, 
formed  the  most  appropriate  and  affecting  ornament  of 
the  ceremony. 

To  bring  about  a  revolution  requires  such  sacrifices, 
such  acts  of  courage,  such  enthusiasm,  that  those  who 

*  An  epithet  bestowed  by  the  English  who  heard  him  speak  in 
the  cortee  of  Cadiz ,  in  1812. 

7* 


78  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

undertake  it  must  be  gifted  with  an  imagination  and 
with  feelings  far  above  the  common  level.  Hence  it  is, 
that  in  those  great  events  which  present,  as  it  were,  a 
nation  in  convulsion,  so  many  prominent  and  striking 
characters  are  produced.  Without  revolutions,  the  linea- 
ments of  the  great  families  called  nations,  would  be  more 
uniform,  and  less  expressive.  The  strongest  marked 
physiognomies  of  these  families  appear  in  violent  tem- 
pests. The  revolution  called  the  reformation,  in  Ger- 
many ;  that  of  the  parliament  in  England,  the  last  in 
France,  &c.,  have  formed  entire  galleries  of  characters 
perfectly  new  and  original.  I  had  an  opportunity  of 
verifying  my  observations  among  the  brothers  in  exile 
with  whom  I  was  acquainted.  In  the  composition  of 
persons  who  have  been  engaged  in  a  revolution  may  be 
discovered,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  much  imagination, 
a  quick  sensibility,  a  high  ambition,  vanity  still  higher 
than  true  ambition,  and  extreme  inquietude  and  irrita- 
bility. It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  where  such  ele- 
ments abound,  we  should  find  differences,  quarrels,  and 
disputes  without  end,  excessive  lamentations  over  dis- 
appointment, instances  of  heroism  and  extraordinary 
virtue,  unheard-of  crimes,  and  inexplicable  changes  from 
fidelity  to  the  falsest  treachery.  I  will  here  sketch  some 
of  the  more  remarkable  characters,  of  whom  I  acquired 
a  better  knowledge,  during  their  adversity  in  London, 
than  I  could  have  done  when  their  passions  were  in  full 
fervour. 

Senor  Franco  of  Valencia  is  a  Spanish  patriot  who,  to 
be  useful  to  his  country,  and  to  acquire  that  influence 
over  his  fellow-citizens  which  neither  birth  nor  riches 
nor  extraordinary  talents  conferred  upon  him,  devoted  his 
life  to  virtue,  and, 

"  Under  the  shield  of  conscious  purity," 


IN  ENGLAND.  79 

carried  about  his  poverty  in  triumph.  Humble,  indeed, 
though  always  decent  in  his  dress  ;  sober,  although  some- 
times giving  way  to  indulgence  at  the  table  of  some 
opulent  friend,  or  occasionally  at  another ;  as  a  judge 
bold,  decided,  and  inexorable.  Six  years  of  exile  con- 
sumed in  attempts  and  stratagems  to  prepare  that  mine 
which  was  destined  in  1820  to  spring,  and  demolish  the 
absolute  government  of  Ferdinand  the  Seventh,  were 
remunerated  by  the  cortes  with  a  pension  which  was  his 
only  patrimony.  Of  strict  honour  in  all  his  dealings,  of 
inviolable  secrecy,  scrupulous  to  an  extreme  of  injuring 
the  reputation  of  others  ; — his  testimony  was  often  ad- 
mitted to  be  decisive  even  by  his  enemies.  He  was 
sometimes  selected  as  the  arbiter  between  two  contend- 
ing factions,  and  when  the  good  of  his  country  was  con- 
cerned, would,  like  a  second  Friar  Savonarola,  fulminate 
his  wrath  even  against  his  bosom  friends.  Full  to  the 
brim  of  love  of  country,  he  harangued  at  dinners,  in  the 
theatre,  in  the  streets,  and  in  the  shops,  at  once  inex- 
haustible and  indefatigable ;  and,  as  his  passion  for  liberty 
was  the  only  spirit  that  could  actuate  him, — as  he  was 
always  free  from  interested  views,  from  every  kind  of 
ambition,  his  speeches  sparkled  in  every  part  with 
original,  picturesque,  and  fiery  expressions.  Knowing 
at  the  time  of  the  war  of  independence  the  obstinacy  of 
the  prince,  he  had  advised  his  countrymen  to  offer  the 
throne  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  adducing  the  example 
of  Sweden,  which  at  that  very  moment  was  placing  the 
crown  on  the  head  of  a  marshal  of  France.  To  get  rid, 
if  possible,  of  Ferdinand,  he  went  to  Rome  to  offer,  in. 
the  name  of  his  fellow-citizens,  the  sceptre  of  Spain  once 
more  to  Charles  the  Fourth  upon  certain  conditions.  By 
the  force  of  this  Cato-like  spirit  alone,  he  had  attained  to 
an  importance  among  his  countrymen  to  which  many 
others,  with  more  ambition,  and  superior  means,  had  not 


80  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

been  able  to  arrive.     After  the  fall  of  the  constitutional 
system  in  Spain,  I  saw  him  again  in  London,  with  the 
multitude  of  other  emigrants,  not  in  the  slightest  degree 
crest-fallen.     Nothing  in  London  took  his  attention ;  it 
seemed  as  if  his  mind  still  remained  in  Spain.     He  ran 
through  the  streets  of  London  as  though  he  were  still  in 
the  Calle  de  la  Montera  at  Madrid.     Beggared,  but  not 
begging,  except  sometimes  a  trifle  to  pay  for  his  bed  and 
a  porringer  of  milk, — almost  his  only  nourishment, — 
forced  to  lie  a-bed  in  winter  because  he  could  not  afford 
to  pay  for  firing,  this  virtuous  tribune  of  the  people  did 
not  yet  believe  his  mission  ended;  he  harangued  when 
he  could,  and  as  much  as  he  could.    His  eloquence  was 
heightened  by  the  events  and  misfortunes  that  had  oc- 
curred.    But  when,  from  these  sublime  raptures  he  re- 
turned to  himself,  and,  retiring  from  the  theatre  of  the 
world,  to  which  his  fancy  carried  him,  cast  his  eyes  on 
his  dress,  on  the  cold  and  naked  walls  of  his  chamber  ; — 
when  he  was  constrained  to  extend  his  hand  for  the 
wretched  pension  of  the  English  government,  that  he 
might  eat  and  live, — passionately  then  did  he  exclaim, 
"  Thanks  be  to  religion,  that  ordains  every  sacrifice,  and 
rewards  me  for  all.     Without  that,  I  should  long  ago 
have  spurned  virtue  from  me :  see  where  this  syren  has 
for  a  second  time    conducted    me, — the    shipwrecked 
sailor  of  revolution,  without  friends,  without  assistance, 
without  even  fame! — in  the  midst  of  a  foreign  nation 
wallowing  in  wealth,  and  valuing  only  riches  and  pros- 
perity.    Without    religion,   I  should  have    faltered   a 
thousand  times  in  the  path  of  duty,  for  virtue  alone  was 
not  a  sufficient  compass  to  direct  my  course  of  action  in 
the  midst  of  a  sea  of  contamination !" 

To  feel  the  greater  interest  in  this  man,  one  should 
know  that  before  the  revolution  he  had  been  a  friar.  He 
left  his  cloistered  prison  because  the  gates  were  thrown 


IN  ENGLAND,  81 

open  to  him,  but  he  preserved  his  fidelity  to  his  vows, 
and  to  God.  He  lived  amongst  the  disciples  of  Rousseau 
and  Voltaire  without  restraint  or  mistrust,  and,  without 
reproving  them,  did  not  blush  to  avow  to  their  faces  the 
religious  sentiments  which  he  so  deeply  felt.  He  would 
have  sounded  the  praises  of  religion  before  Diogoras,  or 
Spinoza,  or  Diderot.  I  recollect  another  affecting  re- 
flection being  made  one  day  in  the  midst  of  the  pressure 
of  poverty.  "  It  is  noble,"  said  he,  "  to  suffer  on  a  great 
theatre  where  the  applauses  of  spectators,  the  trumpet  of 
fame,  encourage  you  to  endurance.  Every  torture  then 
brings  with  it  its  consolation  and  its  reward ;  but  the  true, 
the  most  poignant,  the  purest  sufferings,  tempered  by  no 
relief,  are  not  those  of  the  hero,  or  the  illustrious  martyr, 
but  of  such  obscure  atoms  as  I,  who  suffer  such  heart- 
aches for  liberty  in  obscurity,  forgotten  by  all  the  world !" 

Those  who  are  accustomed  to  behold  with  admiration 
the  stoic  impassibility  which  will  bleed  to  death  without 
even  breathing  a  sigh,  will  perhaps  think  these  lamenta- 
tions not  consistent  with  philosophical  decorum.  Those 
on  the  other  hand,  who  admire  the  heroes  of  Homer  and 
the  Greek  tragedies,  who  now  weep  like  children,  now 
fight  like  Gods,  will  find  these  bursts  of  nature  full  of 
truth,  and  think  him  perhaps  more  interesting,  who 
complains  indeed  amid  the  throes  of  grief,  but  still  tri- 
umphantly pursues  the  path  of  duty. 

The  first  time  I  saw  at  Madrid  the  silver-tongued 

G ,  he  was  dressed  in  a  green  camlet  cloak,  a 

straw  hat,  a  pair  of  dust  coloured  shoes,  and  I  know  not 
what  else.  He  seemed  as  if  he  had  copied  the  toilette 
of  a  parrot.  I  went  to  the  hall  of  the  cortes  to  hear 
him,  and  he  appeared  to  me  a  second  Cicero.  He  speaks 
extemporaneously  with  the  same  elegance  and  facility 
with  which  a  member  of  the  Spanish  academy  would 
write.  I  met  him  a  second  time,  and  examined  him 


82  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

more  narrowly.  I  found  him  a  little,  lean,  short-sighted 
man,  unsteady  on  his  legs, — a  very  devil-on-two-stickg. 
I  went  that  evening  to  hear  him  from  the  people's  gal- 
lery, and  he  appeared  to  me  a  giant  that  with  the  thunder 
of  his  eloquence  might  have  shaken  Olympus.  Two 
months  afterwards  I  met  him  in  London,  uncorrupt, 
inaccessible  to  every  kind  of  seduction,  unchanged,  and 
unchangeable ;  he  seemed  then  a  Cato.  This  man  is  a 
species  of  Sphinx ;  he  is  a  mixture  of  beauties  and  de- 
fects :  vainglorious  in  the  extreme,  but  always  ready  to  sa- 
crifice his  self-love  at  the  altar  of  his  country ;  given  to 
pleasure,  yet  of  a  candid  mind,  and  free  from  offence. 
The  English  government  granted  a  pension  to  all  the 
members  of  the  cortes ;  he  was  the  first  to  refuse  it.  In 
the  meanwhile,  he  honestly  sold  his  pen  to  the  literary 
journals.  One  of  the  great  leaders  of  Spain  was  the  first 
in  London  to  bow  to  the  yoke  of  fate,  and  became  a 
teacher  of  languages  rather  than  bow  to  the  yoke  of 
man.  He  is  a  boaster,  but  I  never  heard  him  boast  of 
the  sacrifices  he  had  made  to  his  country.  To  give  one- 
self up  to  one's  country,  is  in  his  eyes  a  bare  duty,  not  a 
virtue.  I  never  heard  him  either  lament  over,  or  sigh 
for,  the  comforts  of  this — 

" life  more  overcast  than  'tis  serene, 

This  mortal  life,  of  direst  envy  full." 

He  seems  invulnerable  either  by  fortune  or  by  man. 

Another  exile  with  whom  I  was  long  acquainted,  was 
the  Count  Santorre  di  Santa  Rosa.  His  name  had  been 
connected  with  the  Piedmontese  revolution,  but  the  na- 
tion which  admired  the  few  acts  of  his  ministry,  had  not 
time  to  appreciate  his  virtues  as  a  citizen,  and  his  talents 
as  a  statesman.  Whoever  lived  under  the  same  roof 
with  him,  could  not  avoid  being  the  better  for  it.  The 


IN  ENGLAND.  83 

very  judges  who  pronounced  sentence  of  death  upon 
him,  would  have  revoked  it,  if  they  had  known  the  pu- 
rity of  his  heart.  He  was  one  of  those  men  who  are 
born  to  fascinate  all  around  them,  and  to  make  follow- 
ers. Eloquent,  of  a  cultivated  mind,  brought  up  in  a 
camp  during  the  first  years  of  his  youth,  under  the  eye 
of  the  colonel  his  father;  but  a  lover  of  solitude,  that  ho 
might  give  himself  up  to  study  and  contemplation,  he 
joined  a  military  frankness  to  the  holy  enthusiasm  of 
the  hermit.  A  good  companion,  a  warm  friend,  an  ex- 
cellent host,  he  created  around  him  more  genial  merri- 
ment, with  no  liquor  but  water,  than  others,  assisted  by 
all  the  inspiration  of  the  bottle.  Although  he  held  no 
higher  rank  in  the  army  than  that  of  lieutenant-colonel, 
yet  all  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him  as  9  man  who  would 
do  unheard  of  things.  His  mind  was  as  pure  as  his  life. 
He  loved  liberty,  not  only  for  its  effects,  but  also  as  a 
sublime  and  poetical  state  of  existence.  At  the  same 
time,  nevertheless,  he  loved  monarchy ;  he  wished,  so  to 
speak,  to  worship  liberty  in  her  temple,  with  a  king  for 
high  priest.  In  Constantinople  he  would  have  adored 
liberty  alone,  as  in  Philadelphia  he  would  have  voted  for 
a  king;  he  loved  a  king,  through  his  love  of  liberty,  be- 
cause he  believed  a  king  to  be  the  guarantee  of  liberty 
with  order.  He  was  enamoured  of  the  history  of  his 
country,  and  a  warm  admirer  of  the  military  monarchy 
of  Piedmont,  not  that  he  would  not  have  corrected  its 
Gothic  defects;  but  he  admired  it  as  one  admires  an  old 
suit  of  polished  steel  armour,  which  is  no  longer  useful, 
but  still  dazzling.  He  felt  for  the  diminutive  kingdom  in 
which  he  was  born,  the  same  affection  which  is  shown 
by  the  citizens  of  small  republics.  Thus,  although  he 
could  speak  both  French  and  Italian  with  singular  ele- 
gance, he  delighted  to  commune  with  his  fellow  country- 
men entirely  in  the  Piedmontese  dialect ;  it  was  his 


84  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

Ranz  des  Peaches.  It  will,  therefore,  excite  no  surprise 
that  he  was  inclined  to  an  aristocratic  constitution. 
When  I  saw  him  for  the  first  time  in  Turin  before  the 
revolution,  he  was  in  favour  of  two  chambers  of  repre- 
sentatives ;  I  said  to  him,  "  Let  us  defer  that  question 
till  after  the  triumph ;  in  the  mean  time,  rest  assured  of 
this,  that,  till  the  talisman  of  the  Spanish  constitution  is 
displayed,  the  majority  of  the  Italians  will  riot  stir." 
After  a  short  pause,  he  replied  in  a  resolute  tone,  u  If  it 
be  so,  let  us  defer  this  important  question  to  a  better  op- 
portunity, and  grasp  the  Spanish  constitution  only  as 
a  lever  to  raise  degraded  Italy  from  the  wretched  slavery 
in  which  she  is  plunged."  There  are  few  examples  of 
so  manly  and  generous  a  sacrifice  of  individual  opinion 
to  that  of  the  many. 

England  was  for  him  an  inexhaustible  field  of  obser- 
vation ;  he  studied  her  institutions  as  the  ancients  stu- 
died the  laws  of  Crete,  and  they  pleased  him  the  more, 
that  the  aristocratic  principle  being  predominant  in 
them,  their  success  in  practice  was  a  splendid  confirma- 
tion of  his  political  speculations.  Nor  would  he  perhaps 
have  abandoned  this  land  of  liberty,  nor  that  fire  which 
is  never  quenched,  had  not  hearts,  formed  to  strive  for 
fame,  awakened  him  from  his  life  of  repose  at  Notting- 
ham, to  combat  for  the  liberation  of  Greece,  His  intense 
love  of  liberty  was  inflamed  by  a  tincture  of  religious 
enthusiasm :  he  went  to  Greece  with  the  courage  and 
the  devotion  of  a  true  crusader.  If  he  had  been  able  to 
speak  the  language,  he  would  have  inoculated  his  fol- 
lowers with  his  enthusiasm  ;  he  had  a  cross  always  hung 
round  his  neck,  and  he  astonished  the  palicari  with 
whom  he  went  to  Navarino,  by  flourishing  his  sabre 
with  one  hand,  and  displaying  his  cross  in  the  other, 
while  he  translated  for  them  the  verse  of  Tasso — 
"  For  country  all  is  lawful,  and  for  faith." 


IN  ENGLAND.  85 

He  died  as  he  had  lived,  a  brave  man^with  arms  in  his 
hands,  face  to  face  with  the  Egyptians,  as  they  landed 
in  the  island  of  Sphacteria.  He  could  not  have  had  a 
more  honourable  death  nor  a  more  honourable  grave. 
The  slaughter  of  the  Turks  and  the  Egyptians,  soon 
after  at  the  battle  of  Navarino,  the  20th  of  October 
1827,  was  a  hecatomb  which  expiated  his  death,  and  the 
conflagration  of  that  barbarian  fleet  the  noblest  funeral 
pile  that  could  be  reared  to  his  unburied  bones ! 


86  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 


ROADS. 


The  prosperity  and  civilisation  of  a  country  may  be 
estimated  in  a  hundred  different  ways.  Some  measure 
it  by  the  population,  some  by  the  quantity  of  money  in 
circulation  ;  this  by  the  state  of  its  literature,  and  that  by 
the  state  of  its  language.  David  Hume  said,  that  where 
good  broad-cloth  is  made,  astronomy  is  sure  to  be  known, 
and  the  sciences  to  be  cultivated.  Sterne,  from  the  hy- 
berpole  of  the  barber  who  dressed  his  wig,  and  the  finery 
of  the  Parisian  gloveress,  deduced  two  qualities  of  the 
French  nation,  one  amiable,  and  the  other  ridiculous. 
Pangloss,  when  he  was  shipwrecked  on  the  coast  of  Por- 
tugal, drew  the  inference,  from  the  sight  of  men  hanging 
in  chains,  that  he  was  in  a  civilised  country.  Why  may 
we  not  also  draw  an  inference  of  the  civilisation  of  a  coun- 
try from  the  condition  of  its  roads  ?  Where  there  are  no 
roads,  or  but  few,  however  magnificent,  we  may  take  it  for 
granted  that  there  are  few  or  no  books,  few  or  no  manu- 
factures, many  and  unjust  laws,  few  legislators  or  only 
one,  a  great  many  friars  and  very  few  learned  men,  many 
miracles  and  little  money.  Whoever  has  travelled  in 
Europe,  must  have  seen  with  his  own  eyes  the  truth  of 
this  doctrine.  Russia,  Poland,  Turkey,  Greece,  Transyl- 
vania, Hungary,  Croatia,  Bukovinia,  Spain,  and  Portugal, 
which  are  certainly  the  least  civilised  portions,  are  also 
those  which  have  the  fewest  roads.  In  the  Peloponnesus, 


IN  ENGLAND.  87 

where,  when  poems,  tragedies,  and  histories,  were  writ- 
ten, there  were  so  many  roads  and  cart  tracks,  there  is 
now  no  longer  a  carriageable  road ;  not  in  the  whole 
kingdom  of  the  king  of  men,  Agamemnon  : — 

"  Of  countries  vast  the  ruler  sole-supreme, 
The  best  of  kings,  in  war  supremely  brave !" 

who  had  Automedoii  for  his  charioteer,  the  best  coach- 
man in  all  Greece.  From  Velez-Malaga  to  Grenada,  in 
the  once  wealthy  kingdoms  of  the  Arabian  dynasties, 
there  is  no  other  road  than  a  precipitous  mule  track. 
From  the  city  of  Mexico  to  Guatemala,  there  is  nothing 
that  can  be  called  a  road.  To  get  over  the  twelve  hun- 
dred miles  of  intervening  distance,  the  deputies  from 
Guatemala,  when  that  republic  was  united  to  Mexico, 
were  obliged  to  undertake  four  months'  disastrous  tra- 
velling. From  Omoa  to  Guatemala  it  is  the  same : — 
to  traverse  these  three  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  takes 
sometimes  from  six  to  seven  months,  in  the  case  of  the 
transportation  of  merchandise  on  the  backs  of  mules. 
The  other  Spanish  American  colonies  all  alike  had  over- 
few  roads,  and  over-much  wretchedness,  ignorance^  and 
superstition. 

On  the  contrary,  France,  Germany,  and  Italy,  have 
more  roads  and  more  civilisation,  and  England  has  more 
roads  and  canals,  than  all  the  rest  of  Europe  put  toge- 
ther,— and  more  civilisation.  I  remember  seeing  in  M. 
Dupin's  work  on  England,  that  the  total  length  of  its 
roads  and  canals,  in  proportion  to  its  extent  of  surface, 
is  very  much  greater  than  that  of  the  roads  and  canals 
of  France.  Does  not  the  comparative  civilisation  of  the 
two  countries  stand  perhaps  in  the  same  scale  ?  Let 
the  same  comparison  be  made  between  the  roads  and 


88  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

canals  of  the  north  of  Italy  and  those  of  the  kingdom 
of  Naples,  and  the  same  result  will  be  obtained. 

This  is  not  a  mere  casual  coincidence, — it  is  an  un- 
failing- effect  of  an  infallible  cause.  From  the  want  of 
easy  communication,  men  remain  disjoined  and  isolated ; 
their  minds  grow  cold,  their  spirit  slumbers,  they  feel 
no  emulation,  they  experience  not  the  spur  of  the  neces- 
sity for  satisfying-  new  desires,  have  little  moral  develop- 
ment, energy,  or  activity.  This  is  the  reason  why  the 
republican,  or  the  citizen  of  a  free  state,  is  of  a  fervid, 
animated,  and  enterprising-  spirit,  because  he  lives  and 
moves  in  a  multitude  ;  while  the  subject  of  an  absolute 
monarchy,  where  the  population  is  usually  scanty,  and 
scattered  over  a  large  surface,  becomes  dull  and  drowsy, 
not  more  from  the  terror  than  the  isolation  in  which  he 
lives.  When  men  are  brought  nearer  to  each  other,  by 
means  of  roads,  canals,  steam  vessels,  suspension 
bridges,  rail  ways,  and  (would  fate  consent)  air  balloons, 
they  will  waken  up,  their  ideas,  their  desires  will  mul- 
tiply, and  their  energy  and  intelligence  in  proportion. 
Why  is  a  countryman  necessarily  less  active  and  intelli- 
gent than  a  citizen  ?  Why  the  inhabitant  of  a  small 
town  less  so  than  the  inhabitant  of  a  great  capital  ?  Be- 
cause the  mixing  and  rubbing  together  of  men  is  less. 
It  would  appear  that  the  development  of  the  human 
mind  is  in  the  combined  proportion  of  the  mass  of  men, 
and  the  velocity  of  their  intercourse.  I  will  quote,  in 
illustration  of  this,  two  beautiful  similes  of  Verri  in  his 
Meditations  on  Political  Economy  (now  at  length  known 
and  esteemed  by  the  English). — "  A  blade  of  common  grass 
mowed  down  in  the  meadow  is  a  piece  of  inert  matter, 
while  it  remains  isolated,  or  only  collected  in  a  small 
mass ;  but  let  a  large  heap  of  these  blades  of  grass  be 
piled  up,  and  a  fermentation  will  be  observed  to  take 
place, — heat  will  be  unfolded, — a  motion  propagated 


IN  EXGLAND.  89 

throughout  the  mass,  which  will  at  length  take  fire,  and 
blaze  up  till  it  illumes  the  horizon." — "  A  bunch  of 
grapes,  by  itself,  or  with  only  a  few  others,  discharges 
itself  of  a  mere  dreggy  matter  ;  but  when  a  large  quan- 
tity is  compressed,  the  mutual  impinging  of  the  infinite 
volatile  particles  agitates  the  whole  mass,  effervescence 
is  every  where  produced,  and  a  liquor  distils  from  it 
which  fills  the  atmosphere  with  fragrance,  and  the  veins 
of  him  who  drinks  it  with  life  and  youth  !  Such  is  the 
picture  of  mankind."  For  the  lovers  of  similes,  I  will 
add  another.  Men,  those  pebbles  of  Deucalion,  are  ex- 
actly like  flints,  which  never  throw  out  fire  until  they 
are  struck  together. 

Straight  roads  and  symmetrical  cities,  betray  a  des- 
potic power,  caring  little  or  nothing  for  the  rights  of 
property.  An  undeviating  right  line  is  like  the  sword 
of  Alexander,  with  which  he  cut  the  Gordian  knot,  when 
he  found  it  impossible  to  untie  it.  Turin  and  Berlin, 
the  two  most  regularly  built  cities  in  Europe,  rose  under 
the  word  of  command  from  two  military  monarchs ;  and 
who  does  not  discern  in  the  interminable  straight  roads 
of  France  and  Poland,  the  arbitrary  hand  which  must 
have  made  them  so  ?  On  the  contrary,  in  England, 
that  ancient  land  of  liberty,  the  streets  are  crooked,  full 
of  ins  and  outs,  and  most  of  the  cities  are  mere  heaps 
of  habitations,  built  without  a  plan,  as  necessity  or  ca- 
price dictated,  not  composed  of  files  of  houses,  drawn 
out  in  line  with  the  regularity  of  so  many  battalions  of 
soldiers.  Yet  the  English  love  order,  celerity,  and  eco- 
nomy :  true, — but  it  appears  that  hitherto  he  has  above 
all  these  ever  respected  the  rights  of  property.  So  nu- 
merous are  the  windings  of  the  public  roads  in  England, 
as  to  render  a  deduction  necessary  to  be  made,  in  strict 
justice,  in  favour  of  France,  from  the  proportions  laid 
down  by  M.  Dupin,  to  which  I  have  before  adverted. 
8* 


90  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

The  footpath  that  always  runs  along  the  sides  of  the 
streets  in  the  towns,  and  many  of  the  roads  in  the  coun- 
try as  well,  shows  that  the  people  are  respected  and  re- 
spectable. There  are  canals  for  merchandise,  the  mid- 
dle of  the  highway  for  those  that  ride,  and  the  footpath 
for  those  who  walk.  The  footway  is  the  triumph  of  de- 
mocracy. The  lower  class  is  not,  as  in  other  countries, 
quite  disinherited ;  it  has  its  own  portion,  small,  indeed, 
but  inviolable.  On  the  continent,  instead,  the  roads 
seem  only  made  for  the  rich  and  for  the  horses. 

Which  is  the  best  method  of  obtaining  good  roads, 
that  is,  not  only  highways,  but  also  cross-roads,  that, 
like  the  veins  of  the  human  body,  run  in  every  direc- 
tion, and  conjoin  in  one  whole,  the  largest  cities  with 
the  remotest  villages  ?  Is  the  system  of  tolls,  or  that  of 
a  public  superintendence  supported  by  the  taxes,  the  bet- 
ter ?  Verri  says,  "  Every  payment  imposed  on  the  pas- 
sage of  roads,  or  the  transport  of  goods,  such  as  tolls, 
taxes  on  carts  and  carriages,  has  the  effect  of  rarefying 
the  population,  and  rendering  parts  of  it  more  isolated. 
Smith,  on  the  other  side,  maintains  the  utility  and  the 
justice  of  turnpikes,  observing  that  this  tax,  or  toll, 
though  it  is  advanced  by  the  carrier,  is  finally  paid  by 
the  consumer,  to  whom  it  must  always  be  charged  in 
the  price  of  the  goods.  As  the  expense  of  carriage, 
however,  is  very  much  reduced  by  means  of  such  public 
works,  the  goods,  notwithstanding  the  toll,  come  cheaper 
to  the  consumer  than  they  could  otherwise  have  done  ; 
their  price  not  being  so  much  raised  by  the  toll,  as  it  is 
lowered  by  the  cheapness  of  the  carriage.  The  person 
who  finally  pays  this  tax,  therefore,  gains  by  the  appli- 
cation more  than  he  loses  by  the  payment  of  it.  His 
payment  is  exactly  in  proportion  to  his  gain.  It  is,  in 
reality,  no  more  than  a  part  of  that  gain  which  he  is 
obliged  to  give  up  in  order  to  get  the  rest.  It  seems 


IN  ENGLAND.  9  1 

impossible  to  imagine  a  more  equitable  method  of  raising 
a  tax." 

However  discordant  these  two  opinions  may  appear, 
they  may  both  be  correct  in  different  cases.  That  of 
Verri  is  the  just  one  in  a  country  of  little  activity,  and 
little  commerce  and  resort.  If  the  passage  of  carriages 
and  merchandise  be  rare,  how  can  the  turnpikes  pay  the 
expenses  of  the  construction  and  maintenance  of  the 
roads  ?  Instead  of  this,  they  would  lessen,  or  perhaps 
completely  annihilate  the  little  intercourse  already  in 
existence.  England  itself  in  those  few  districts  where 
transit  is  rare,  does  not  follow  the  general  system  of 
turnpikes,  but  sets  in  motion  that  of  parochial  rates. 

The  opinion  of  Smith  also  is  just,  in  reference  to  a 
country  like  England,  from  a  survey  of  whose  condition 
he  constructed  most  of  his  theories, — where  the  internal 
communication  is  so  vast,  that  in  a  few  years  it  refunds, 
by  means  of  the  tolls,  all  the  expenses  of  making  the 
roads,  and  keeping  them  in  repair. 

I  am  perfectly  well  aware  that  Lombardy  has,  since 
the  reign  of  Joseph  the  Second,  been  in  possession  of  a 
very  provident  code  of  laws  for  the  formation  of  roads ; 
the  English  laws,  nevertheless,  are  perhaps  no  less  ex- 
cellent than  our  own  in  this  particular,  as  may  be  ga- 
thered from  M.  Dupin's  work,  in  which  they  are  all 
given.  As  these  do  not  come  within  my  scope,  this  re- 
ference must  suffice : — I  resume  my  former  subject. 

I  repeat  that  the  whole  of  the  English  roads  are  not 
made  and  maintained  by  means  of  turnpikes.  Those 
which  serve  only  for  communicating  between  village 
and  village  would  not  in  some  cases  pay  the  gatekeeper 
for  the  trouble  of  taking  the  toll.  These,  therefore,  are 
maintained  as  economically  as  possible.  Those,  how- 
ever, running  between  cities  of  large  trade,  and  much 
frequented  by  travellers,  are  kept  up  by  means  of  farm- 


92  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

ing  out  the  tolls.  The  erection  of  turnpikes  is  optional 
on  the  part  of  the  municipal  authorities,  but  it  is  not  to 
be  wondered  at  that  they  all  adopt  them,  because  by 
their  operation  a  share  of  the  expense  of  the  roads  is 
thrown  upon  the  goods  and  passengers  that  make  use  of 
them.  The  consent  of  parliament  is  indispensable  be- 
fore this  tax  can  be  imposed,  and,  when  this  consent  is 
granted,  it  is  always  accompanied  by  the  condition  that 
it  shall  cease  within  a  certain  time  after  the  proprietors 
have  reimbursed  their  outlay,  with  interest.  These  tolls 
are  consequently  temporary,  and  liable  to  rise  or  fall  as 
is  found  necessary. 

Why,  it  may  be  asked,  does  not  the  government  main- 
tain the  principal  roads,  and  afterwards  repay  itself  with 
the  tolls  ?  Because,  by  this  method,  it  is  to  be  feared 
that  the  tolls  would  become  a  perpetual  tax,  and,  instead 
of  being  only  a  transitory  imposition  to  pay  a  debt,  it 
would  become  a  source  of  peculation.  Where  a  govern- 
ment has  no  other  direct  interest  than  those  of  justice 
and  impartiality,  it  takes  care  to  set  impassable  bounds 
to  its  concessions.  It  fixes  unalterably  the  toll,  and  the 
time  it  is  to  be  kept  up.  All  the  great  roads,  bridges, 
and  canals  in  England,  were  made  and  paid  for  by 
means  of  tolls.  The  government  has  done,  as  it  were, 
nothing :  but  it  has  done  the  best  it  could  do — it  has 
"  let  things  alone."  All  the  canals,  which  in  England 
are  innumerable,  were  constructed  by  companies,  of 
which  there  have  been  more  than  fifteen  within  the  last 
sixty  years.  These  have  dug  and  opened  canals  in 
every  direction,  on  the  faith  of  the  toll  they  were  to  be 
allowed  to  take.  The  shareholders  have  gained  almost 
double  the  usual  rate  of  interest ;  commerce  an  increas- 
ed facility,  and  a  great  saving  of  time ;  the  public  a 
great  convenience ;  and  the  whole  country  incalculable 
wealth.  It  cannot  be  pretended,  however,  that  the  turn- 


IN  ENGLAND.  93 

pike  system  is  altogether  free  from  drawbacks.  The 
greatest  is  the  number  of  unproducing  persons  obliged 
to  be  employed  in  taking  the  tolls,  and  the  inconvenience 
to  which  the  passengers  are  put,  in  having  to  stop  and 
pay  at  every  turn  (the  stagecoaches,  however,  and  the 
inhabitants  of  the  neighbourhood,  pay  weekly,  on  Satur- 
day) ;  there  are  also  frequent  embezzlements  by  the  re- 
ceivers, and  sometimes  immoderate  profits  are  made  by 
the  farmers  of  the  toll,  or  the  trustees  of  the  road  :  but 
the  advantages  to  be  placed  in  the  opposite  scale  over- 
balance the  others  most  decidedly. 

In  the  first  place,  the  expenses  of  the  road  are  exactly 
distributed  among  those  who  make  use  of  it,  according 
to  the  extent  of  their  traffic.  The  mountaineers  of 
Wales,  for  example,  who  hardly  ever  leave  their  native 
province,  do  not  contribute  a  farthing  towards  paying 
for  the  beautiful  road  from  London  to  Liverpool,  which 
they  neither  use  nor  wear  out.  This  way  is  also  steady, 
and  independent  of  state  favouritism  or  state  events  :  if 
the  expense  be  made  to  fall  on  the  government,  it  may, 
perhaps,  alter  its  policy,  may  be  more  partial  to  one 
province  than  another ;  now  it  may  be  too  active,  now 
too  indolent ;  at  one  time  too  profuse,  at  another  too 
sparing;  or,  which  happens  oftenest  of  all,  it  may  injure 
by  caprice,  or  devote  to  other  purposes,  the  funds  in- 
tended for  this  department.  Even  the  best  constituted 
governments  may  be  forced,  by  an  unforeseen  war,  or  a 
thousand  other  accidents,  to  employ  the  money  other- 
wise than  it  ought  to  be.  Charles  III.  of  Spain  made 
some  magnificent  roads, — his  successors  neglected  them. 
When  the  roads  are  under  the  charge  of  the  government, 
they  get  better  and  worse  several  times  in  a  century  ; 
when  they  are  under  the  control  of  those  who  make  use 
of  them,  there  is  no  reason  why  they  should  be  allowed 
to  fall  into  decay. 


94  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

When  a  government  undertakes  these  matters,  utility 
is  too  often  sacrificed  to  display.  What  is  the  use  of 
those  ample  roads  in  France,  which,  as  M.  Say  wittily 
observes,  *«  are  twice  as  wide  as  they  ought  to  be,  and 
lead  to  a  capital  whose  streets  are  not  half  so  wide  as 
they  ought  to  be !"  Charles  III.,  with  the  money  he 
spent  on  the  great  road  from  Irun  to  Madrid,  and  from 
Madrid  to  Seville,  might,  if  he  had  spared  something  of 
their  Castilian  pomp,  have  opened  a  carriageable  road 
to  Corunna,  which  is  still  wanting,  and  levelled  the  pre- 
cipitous road  that  leads  to  Portugal. 

When  the  roads  are  made  by  the  public,  there  is  no 
tinsel,  no  flattery  about  the  thing.  Every  one  pays, 
every  one  is  interested,  every  one  points  out  what  is 
wrong,  every  one  is  on  the  watch.  When  they  are 
made  by  the  government,  they  are  baptized  with  the 
name  of  some  prince,  and  what  is,  in  reality,  contributed 
by  the  nation,  is  spoken  of  as  the  free  gift  of  "  the 
powers  that  be."  Many  may  complain,  but  few  are 
heard,  and  rarely,  indeed,  is  the  matter  looked  to. 

The  aid  of  government  is  necessary  until  the  traffic 
on  the  roads  is  risen  to  a  moderate  height.  Up  to  that 
moment,  I  agree  with  Verri,  it  can  and  ought  to  make 
the  roads ;  but  as  soon  as  things  are  in  a  proper  train, 
and  the  traffic  is  sufficient  to  repay  the  expenses  within 
a  certain  time,  I  agree  with  Smith,  that  the  system  of 
tolls  is  preferable. 

When  they  are  once  established,  the  benefits  arising 
from  roads  will  soon  become  immense.  Scarcely  have 
they  become  smooth  and  commodious  before  carts  and 
coaches  change  their  forms,  and  take  ethers  more  airy 
and  elegant;  lighter  and  more  handsome  horses  are 
used,  because  the  roads  do  not  fatigue  them  so  much. 
More  commodious  inns  are  set  up,  and  furnished  con- 
stantly with  fresh  provisions,  because  intercourse  is 


IN  ENGLAND. 


95 


more  frequent,  and  consumption  quicker;  better  shel- 
tered stabling  will  be  necessary,  more  skilful  and  atten- 
tive grooms.  An  English  stagecoach,  which  carries 
eighteen  passengers,  skims  along,  drawn  by  four  excel- 
lent horses,  with  a  coachman  dressed  like  a  gentleman. 
It  makes  the  spectator  tremble  and  wonder  at  the  same 
time,  when  he  sees  such  a  mountain  of  "  men  and 
things"  rush  by,  on  a  very  ticklish  balance.  If  the 
roads  were  bad,  instead  of  good,  all  must  change ;  the 
scene  I  have  just  described  would  disappear,  because, 
on  a  bad  road,  a  carriage  so  loaded  would  break  down, 
or  upset,  before  it  could  stir  a  step ;  the  friction  would 
be  much  greater ;  it  would  be  necessary  to  have  more 
arid  heavier  horses.  All  these  ameliorations  are  a  chain 
which  depends  on  a  single  link,  and  that  link  is — the 
road.  All  who  travel  in  Spain  fly  into  a  passion  at  first, 
and  afterwards  cannot  help  laughing,  at  being  jolted 
about  in  a  vehicle  with  beams  of  timber  for  shafts,  axle- 
tree,  and  springs  ;  and  is  drawn  by  six  mules,  after  the 
fashion  of  a  twenty -four  pounder.  The  fashion  of  these 
carriages,  which  are  built  like  ships,  must  not  be  attri- 
buted to  the  bad  taste  of  the  Spaniards,  but  to  the  steep- 
ness of  the  roads  in  Arragon,  Estremadura,  and  Galicia. 
When  the  roads  have  become  smooth  and  solid,  and  the 
other  successive  improvements  are  brought  to  bear,  the 
intercourse  between  province  and  province,  between  re- 
lations and  friends,  becomes  more  frequent ;  marriages, 
adventures,  incidents,  every  thing  multiplies,  and  a  new 
world  is  created.  In  England,  they  go  three  hundred 
miles  to  hunt ;  owing  to  the  conveniences,  friends  pay 
each  other  visits,  although  at  the  distance  of  one  or 
two  hundred  miles ;  old  men  and  young  ladies,  sucking 
babes*  with  their  mothers,  all  travel  without  annoyance, 

*  For  whom  a  separate  conveyance,  it  may  be  anticipated,  will 
some  time  be  contrived ! — Translator. 


96  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

inconvenience,  or  impediment.  At  every  inri  on  the 
road,  breakfast,  dinner,  or  supper,  is  always  ready,  a  fire 
is  burning  in  every  room,  and  water  always  boiling-  for 
tea  or  coffee.  Soft  feather  beds,  with  a  fire  blazing  up 
the  chimney,  invite  to  repose  ;  and  the  tables  are  covered 
with  newspapers,  for  the  amusement  of  the  passengers. 
The  English  inns  would  be  real  enchanted  palaces,  did 
not,  at  last,  the  bill  of  mine  host  appear,  to  dispel  the 
illusion.  Throughout  the  island,  king,  ministers,  and 
members  of  parliament,  are  all  in  perpetual  motion,  on 
horseback,  in  gigs,  or  in  carriages ;  on  their  way  to 
dinners  or  horseraces,  assemblies,  concerts,  or  balls. 
At  the  balls  given  three  or  four  times  in  the  year  in 
each  county  ("  the  county  balls,") '  families  who  live 
twenty,  thirty,  or  forty  miles  off,  make  their  appearance 
merely  to  pass  away  three  or  four  hours.  By  means 
of  these  vehicles,  this  constant  coming  and  going,  com- 
fort wealth,  and  new  inventions,  are  diffused  equally 
over  the  whole  surface  of  the  country.  It  is  not  fluids 
alone  which  have  a  tendency  to  come  to  a  level :  let  the 
dikes  of  the  inquisition,  the  police,  the  spies,  the  custom 
houses,  be  thrown  down;  let  human  knowledge  spread 
itself,  and  flow  without  obstruction,  and  it  will  soon  be 
seen  that  philosophy,  literature,  constitutional  liberty, 
will  also  tend  to  a  level  over  the  whole  surface  of 
Europe. 

In  the  midst  of  this  concourse  of  travellers,  thieves 
disappear,  every  body  knows  that,  only  sixty  years  ago, 
it  was  not  uncommon,  on  a  journey,  to  make  up  a  purse 
for  the  highwayman,  so  much  were  the  roads  then  in- 
fested with  them.  At  the  present  day,  the  instances  of 
such  an  occurrence  are  most  rare  :  a  highwayman  must 
make  as  much  haste  about  robbing  a -coach,  as  a  pick- 
pocket in  stealing  a  watch.  At  every  hour  of  the  night, 
stagecoaches  full  of  travellers  arrive  and  depart,  with 


IN  ENGLAND.  97 

horns  blowing  to  announce  their  approach ;  with  lamps 
(sometimes  of  gas)  that  throw  a  light  a  hundred  feet 
around,  dashing  along  at  a  regular  breakneck  pace.  It 
is  impossible  to  calculate  how  much  time  England  has 
saved,  and  how  much  it  has  shortened  its  distances,  by 
means  of  improved  roads,  in  the  last  forty  years.  To  go 
from  York  to  London,  that  is,  two  hundred  miles,  used 
to  take  six  days :  by  the  mail  it  now  takes  twenty 
hours,  by  the  other  coaches  twenty-four.  From  Exeter, 
fifty  years  ago,  they  promised  "  a  safe  and  expeditious 
journey  to  London  in  a  fortnight."  Private  carriages 
now  accomplish  the  hundred  and  seventy-five  miles  be- 
tween that  city  and  the  capital  in  eighteen  hours. 
Before  the  invention  of  steam  vessels  indeed,  the  post 
from  London  to  Dublin  took  at  least  six  days : — in  a 
stormy  winter,  in  one  instance,  no  less  than  forty- two. 
Now,  whatever  the  weather,  it  takes  no  more  than  three. 
A  sailing  vessel  lately  arrived  at  Liverpool  in  sixteen 
days  from  the  United  States,  and  brought  some  venison 
fresh  from  the  other  world !  When  steam  vessels  cross 
the  Atlantic,  which  they  will  do  at  no  great  distance  of 
time,  American  game  will  be  a  dainty  any  thing  but 
rare. 

All  this  quickness  of  communication  would  increase 
still  faster,  if  England  would  adopt,  in  her  roads,  the  des- 
potic straight  line,  which  perforates,  like  a  cannon-ball, 
houses,  parks,  gardens,  and  pleasure-grounds.  A  mathe- 
matician might  find  diversion  in  reducing  the  superficies 
of  England  to  the  proportion  which  the  present  velocity 
of  travelling  makes  it  bear  to  that  of  forty  years  since. 
The  result  would  probably  show,  that  England  is  reduced 
to  a  tenth  of  its  size  at  that  period.  Exeter  was  once 
(in  relation  to  time)  sixteen  times  more  distant  from  Lon- 
don than  now.  One  thing  compensates  for  another. 
The  discovery  of  New  Holland  and  the  interior  of  Africa 
9 


98  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

makes  the  world  grow  larger  and  larger  to  the  eye,  in 
the  same  way  that  the  velocity  of  communication,  by 
drawing  its  parts  nearer  together,  reduces  its  dimen- 
sions, and  makes  it  grow  little  once  more.  I  cannot  help 
laughing  at  the  efforts  of  despotism  to  arrest  the  progress 
of  liberty,  while  liberty  passes  on,  by  the  help  of  civilisa- 
tion, in  a  thousand  ways.  The  despots  put  me  in  mind 
of  the  stupid  peasant  of  Metastasio,  who  runs  with  ea- 
gerness to  stop  the  torrent : — 

"  In  vain  he  wastes  upon  the  sands 

His  labour  and  his  care, 
For  if  in  one  place  he  withstands 

The  torrent's  force ;  lo  here !  lo  there ! 
Lo !  in  a  hundred  streams  it  breaks  its  way  I" 

If  the  press  be  chained,  the  truth  still  penetrates  through 
the  universities";  if  the  professors  there  are  persecuted 
and  imprisoned,  civilisation  comes  in  along  with  com- 
merce :  if,  to  obviate  this,  they  adopt  the  prohibitive  sys- 
tem, roads,  roads  alone  are  sufficient  to  bring  the  minds 
of  men  into  contact  and  fermentation.  There  is  no  des- 
potism so  consistent  in  its  means  and  ends,  or,  if  I  may 
be  allowed  the  expression,  so  enlightened,  as  that  of  the 
Turkish  government,  which  permits  neither  printing  nor 
universities,  commerce  nor  roads;  yet  even  the  coffee- 
houses of  Constantinople  were  by  themselves  sufficient 
to  create  an  opposition  to  the  Grand  Seignior,  notwith- 
standing he  is  own  brother  to  the  sun  and  moon! 


IN  ENGLAND.  99 


TIME. 


Idleness  is  the  luxury  of  the  Spaniards,  and  a  great 
luxury  it  is,  for  it  is  all  waste.  It  is  a  universal  luxury, 
which  is  enjoyed  by  all,  from  the  highest  grandee  to  the 
most  miserable  water  carrier.  The  luxury,  however, 
consists  in  the  spending  of  an  article  of  little  or  no  value 
in  Spain.  The  Castilian,  who  keeps  so  religiously  to  his 
word  when  his  honour  is  in  question,  is  never  punctual  to 
an  appointment ;  because  an  hour  more  or  less,  in  the  life 
of  a  Spaniard,  is  only  an  hour  less  or  more  in  eternity. 
If  you  propose  to  a  Spaniard  to  set  his  hand  to  a  thing 
at  once,  he  answers  you,  however  he  may  be  interested 
in  it,  "To-morrow."  Fatal  to-morrow,  which  is  repeated 
so  often  from  day  to  day,  till  your  patience  is  worn  out ! 
Fatal  to-morrow,  that  has  reduced  the  kingdom,  once 
seated  on  a  throne  of  gold,  and  crowned  with  precious 
stones,  to  rags  and  a  dung-hill !  The  very  mantle^in  which 
the  Spaniards  wrap  themselves  up,  and  which  impedes 
every  motion  but  that  of  sleeping,  displays  their  indolence, 
and  the  little  value  they  set  on  time,  as  the  laziness  of  the 
Turks  is  shown  by  their  wide  trowsers  and  loose  slippers. 
When  the  Spaniards  are  better  taught,  more  industrious, 
and  less  prejudiced,  they  will  wear  the  mantle  no  longer. 
Superstition  is  usually  the  companion  of  sloth.  An  active 
people  cannot  afford  to  pray  away  whole  days  at  church, 
or  throw  them  away  on  processions  and  pilgrimages. 


100  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

An  industrious  people  prefer  growing  their  "  daily  bread" 
with  their  own  hands,  to  asking  it  thirty  or  forty  times  a 
day  as  alms  from  heaven.  When  I  was  first  in  Spain  I 
was  surprised  to  see,  that  none  of  the  lower  classes,  and 
but  few  of  the  more  respectable,  had  watches ;  yet  it  is 
natural  that  it  should  be  so.  What  has  he  who  has  no 
occasion  for  the  division  of  time,  to  do  with  the  measure 
of  it  ?  Their  noon  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  horses  and 
dogs,  the'  emptiness  of  their  bellies ;  the  siesta  is,  per- 
haps, the  business  of  the  greatest  importance  they  have 
to  do  during  the  whole  day.  It  is  esteemed  such  an  in- 
dispensable necessary  of  life,  that  a  poet,  I  think  the 
tender  Garcilaso  de  la  Vega,  singing  the  delights  of  the 
Aranjuez,  tells  us  that  the  nymphs  of  the  Tagus,  at  a 
certain  hour  of  the  day,  give  themselves  up  to  the  siesta. 

The  journey  from  Madrid  to  Seville,  which  is  not  ac- 
complished by  a  galley  in  less  than  sixteen  days,  would 
be  got  over  in  England  in  two.  But  what  of  that?  In 
these  sixteen  days  the  Spaniard  would  not  have  produced 
a  skein  of  thread.  For  this  reason,  in  Spain,  and  in  all 
countries  where  indolence  is  in  vogue,  there  are  no  ma- 
chines  for  the  abridgment  of  labour.  Four  years  ago, 
the  coaches  of  the  King  of  Spain  were  in  the  same  state 
as  when  coaches  were  first  invented.  In  some  provinces 
the  carts  have  wheels  which  do  not  turn  on  their  axle- 
trees,  but  with  them,  making  all  the  while  an  infernal 
creaking.  The  Spanish  people,  formerly  so  great,  and 
who  might  yet  be  so,  are  rendered  by  despotism  like  the 
inhabitants  of  the  Castle  of  Indolence,  described  in  Thom- 
son's poem,  who,  deceived  by  the  perfidy  of  a  tyrannical 
magician,  slumbered  on  in  the  delusion  that  they  were 
living  in  a  terrestrial  paradise,  while  they  were  in  reality 
surrounded  on  all  sides  by  desert  wastes,  and  fetid  marshes, 
and  eaten  up  with  wretchedness  and  misery. 

On  the  contrary,   in  England,  time  is  a  revenue,  a 


IN  ENGLAND.  101 

treasure,  an  estimable  commodity.  The  Englishman  is 
not  covetous  of  money,  but  he  is  supremely  covetous  of 
time.  It  is  wonderful  how  exactly  the  English  keep  to 
their  appointments.  They  take  out  their  watch,  regulate 
it  by  that  of  their  friend,  and  are  punctual  at  the  place 
and  hour.  English  pronunciation  itself  seems  invented 
to  save  time  ;  they  eat  the  letters  and  whistle  the  words. 
Thus  Voltaire  had  some  reason  to  say,  "  The  English  gain 
two  hours  a  day  more  than  we  do,  by  eating  their  sylla- 
bles." The  English  use  few  compliments,  because  they 
are  a  loss  of  time,  their  salute  is  a  nod,  or  at  the  utmost 
a  corrosion  of  the  four  monosyllables  "How  d'ye  do?" 
The  ends  of  their  letters  always  show  more  simplicity 
than  ceremony  :  they  have  not "  the  honour  to  repeat  the 
protestations  of  their  distinguished  regard  and  profound 
consideration  "  to  his  "  most  illustrious  lordship,"  whose 
u  most  humble,  most  devoted,  and  most  obsequious  ser- 
vants" they  "  have  the  honour  to  be."  Their  very  lan- 
guage seems  to  be  in  a  hurry ;  since  it  is  in  a  great  part 
composed  of  monosyllables,  and  two  of  them,  again,  are 
often  run  into  one  :  the  great  quantity  of  monosyllables 
looks  like  an  abridged  way  of  writing,  a  kind  of  short 
hand.  The  English  talk  little,  I  suppose,  that  they  may 
not  lose  time  :  it  is  natural,  therefore,  that  a  nation  which 
sets  the  highest  value  upon  time,  should  make  the  best 
chronometers,  and  that  all,  even  among  the  poorer  classes, 
should  be  provided  with  watches.  The  mail  coach  guards 
have  chronometers  worth  eighty  pounds  sterling,  because 
they  must  take  care  never  to  arrive  five  minutes  past  the 
hour  appointed.  At  the  place  of  their  destination,  rela- 
tions, friends,  and  servants,  are  already  collected  to  re- 
ceive passengers  and  parcels.  When  a  machine  is  so 
complicated  as  England  is,  it  is  essential  for  every  thing 
to  be  exact,  or  the  confusion  would  be  ruinous. 

In  England  there  is  no  bargaining.  The  price  of  every 
9* 


102  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

article  is  fixed.  This  custom  is  not  the  product  solely  of 
competition  and  confidence,  but  also  of  the  necessity  of 
saving-  time.  Thus  a  child  may  go  to  buy  without  being 
cheated !  how  otherwise  could  the  shopkeepers  manage 
on  market-days,  when,  from  noonday  till  nine  or  ten  at 
night,  their  shops  are  crowded  with  customers  ? 

The  greatest  traffic  in  England,  that  is,  that  of  the  pub- 
lic funds  at  the  Stock  Exchange,  is  founded  altogether 
on  good  faith.  A  broker  effects  sales  of  thousands  and 
tens  of  thousands  by  means  of  a  few  figures  in  a  little 
book  he  carries  in  his  pocket.  Without  this  laconism, 
or  saving  of  time,  how  could  it  be  possible  to  effect  in  a 
few  hours  so  many  transfers  of  the  funds,  and  so  many 
insurances  ?  Insurances  to  the  amount  of  ten  million 
pounds  sterling  may  be  procured  at  Lloyd's  coffee-house, 
in  a  single  quarter  of  an  hour. 

Why  does  no  one  travel  on  foot  in  England  ?  Why  do 
the  meanest  workmen  travel  with  four  horses,  in  the 
style  of  the  proudest  nobility  on  the  continent  ?  Because 
the  stagecoaches  save  time. 

The  infinite  number  of  machines,  which,  in  manufac- 
tures, multiply  a  hundred  fold  the  work  of  man,  may  be 
estimated  according  to  the  saving  of  time  they  occasion. 
When  it  is  said  that  the  cotton  spinning  machine  does 
the  work  of  two  hundred  spinners,  it  is  the  same  as  say- 
ing, that  it  does,  in  one  day,  the  work  of  a  spinner  for 
two  hundred.  These  machines  have  been  imitated,  or 
have  been  made  known  by  means  of  drawings,  on  the  con- 
tinent; but  how  many  others  remain  unknown,  which,  in 
the  farms,  in  the  seaports,  in  the  warehouses,  and  in  the 
shops,  are  employed  by  the  English  to  save  time  and 
trouble  1 

The  Englishman  does  not  expect  to  make  his  fortune 
either  by  the  lottery  or  by  miracle.  Luther  has  deprived 
him  of  the  latter  resource,  and  the  government  of  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  103 

former,  having  recently  suppressed  it.  Hence  he  places 
his  hopes  and  confidence  in  nothing  but  time ;  his  wish 
is  not  that  of  Midas,  to  become  possessed  of  mountains 
of  gold  at  a  stroke,  but  for  an  opportunity  to  work,  and 
make  money.  Double  an  Englishman's  time,  and  you 
double  his  riches. 

In  conclusion,  with  respect  to  industry  and  labour,  it 
is  no  flattery  to  say,  that  the  Englishman  is  better  than 
the  Spaniard,  since  he  is  a  man  in  the  image  of  God, 
who  is  always  doing.  So  thought  Thomson,  when  he 
put  into  the  mouth  of  Idleness  this  apostrophe  to  her  fol- 
lowers— 

"  Ye  helpless  race, 

Dire  labouring  here  to  smother  reason's  ray, 
That  lights  our  Maker's  image  in  our  face, 
And  gives  us  o'er  our  earth  unquestion'd  sway ; 
What  is  the  adored  Supreme  Perfection,  say  ? 

What  but  eternal  never  resting  soul, 
Almighty  power  and  all  directing  day, 

By  whom  each  atom  stirs — the  planets  roll — 
Who  fills,  surrounds,  informs,  and  agitates  the  whole !" 

Castle  of  Indolence. 


104  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 


ENGLISH     MARKETS. 


"  Fairs  and  markets  belong  to  a  state  as  yet  little  ad- 
vanced in  public  prosperity,  in  the  same  manner  that 
commerce  by  caravans  belongs  to  a  little  advanced  stage 
of  commercial  relations ;  yet  even  this  imperfect  kind  of 
relation  is  better  than  none  at  all."  I  do  not  know  how 
M .  Say,  an  author  generally  so  judicious,  came  to  forget, 
when  he  wrote  this  passage,  that  England,  without  ques- 
tion and  in  every  respect  the  richest  and  most  populous 
of  states,  has  more  fairs  and  markets  than  any  other. 
It  proves  that  political  economy  is  not  a  cosmopolitical 
science,  but  something  like  that  of  medicine,  in  which  the 
aphorisms  that  will  apply  to  all  cases  are  but  few. 
There  is  no  town  in  England  which  has  not  one  or  two 
markets  every  week,  and  two  or  three  fairs  for  horses, 
cattle,  cloth,  cheese,  &c.  in  the  course  of  the  year :  the 
city  of  York  alone  has  no  less  than  fifteen  horse  and 
cattle  fairs  every  year.  Every  English  almanac  con- 
tains the  names  of  above  three  hundred  market  towns, 
as  these  are  called.  To  these  markets  resort  not  only 
the  peasantry,  but  all  the  farmers,  great  and  small,  of 
the  country  side,  for  at  least  ten  miles  round.  It  forms  an 
interesting  and  animated  scene :  from  earliest  dawn  to 
mid-day  the  roads  leading  to  the  town  are  covered  with 
droves  of  cattle,  flocks  of  sheep,  foot  passengers,  tilted  carts, 
and  countless  numbers  of  mounted  rustics.  The  country 


IN  ENGLAND.  105 

folks  use  little  covered  carts,  in  which  all  the  family, 
dressed  in  their  best,  sit  at  their  ease.  The  dog,  the 
most  constant  friend  of  man,  follows  the  caravan,  and 
takes  charge  of  it,  when  the  family  leave  it  to  do  what 
they  are  come  about.  Most  of  these  carts  have  no  springs, 
because,  if  they  had,  they  would  have  to  pay  the  tax  to 
which  spring-carts  are  liable,  according  to  the  spirit 
of  the  English  laws,  which  imposes  taxes  on  an  ascend- 
ing scale,  from  comfort  to  luxury,  and  from  luxury  to 
superfluity.  The  head  of  the  family,  however,  if  he  is  a 
farmer,  goes  to  market  on  horseback.  It  is  pleasant  to 
see  these  English  farmers,  mounted  on  fine  strong  horses, 
in  little  troops  of  five  or  six,  well  clothed  and  fed,  taking 
their  way  to  the  town  at  a  brisk  trot  or  full  gallop,  and 
in  the  evening,  returning  to  the  village,  still  rosier  and 
jollier  than  in  the  morning.  Their  wives  and  daughters 
are  often  to  be  seen  on  horseback,  riding  with  such  ele- 
gance that  they  could  not  be  distinguished  from  ladies, 
if  they  were  not  betrayed  by  their  round  anti-sentimental 
full  moon  faces.  The  farmers  are  in  almost  every  coun- 
try the  finest  race  of  men,  and  in  England  this  appears 
most  strongly,  from  the  contrast  between  them  and  the 
numbers  of  the  population  whose  look  is  spoiled  by  the 
manufactures.  There  are  as  many  races  of  men  as 
there  are  different  professions :  what  a  difference  between 
a  sedentary  watchmaker,  in  a  heated  atmosphere,  peering 
through  a  microscope  at  a  hair's  breadth  of  gold,  and  a 
farmer  of  England  (or  Lodi),  with  plenty  to  eat  and  drink, 
and  continually  in  exercise  in  the  wholesome  open  air ! 
In  Yorkshire,  which  produces  the  finest  horses  in  Eng- 
land, I  have  often  seen  farmers  mounted  on  animals  that 
on  the  continent  would  be  worth  a  hundred  guineas.  In 
some  counties  (and  the  custom  used  to  be  more  general) 
the  farmers  carry  their  chaste  better  halves  seated  behind 
them  on  the  crupper :  the  Englishman  puts  the  lady  in 


\ 

106  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

the  place  of  his  portmanteau,  while  the  Spaniard,  more 
respectful,  as  well  as  more  gallant,  when  he  rides  double, 
places  the  lady  before  him,  supports  her  with  the  left  arm, 
and  in  the  attitude  of  a  Roman  at  the  rape  of  the  Sabines, 
admires  and  talks  to  his  Dulcinea.  Enquiring  within 
myself  what  could  be  the  advantages  of  this  general  use 
of  markets  in  England,  it  occurred  to  me  that  they  might 
be  as  follows :  in  the  first  place,  the  English  towns  are 
open,  and  at  none  of  them  is  there  a  tollage  or  impost  to 
be  paid  at  the  gates  (if  there  were  any).  Hence  it  arises 
that  there  are  no  stoppages,  no  petty  peculations,  no  loss 
of  time,  no  vexation.  The  Englishman  would  rather  let 
his  goods  rot  to  pieces,  than  submit  to  be  searched  and 
pulled  about  every  moment  by  a  set  of  wretched  hirelings, 
placed  at  every  gate  of  the  town,  as  inspectors  of  his 
breeches'  pocket.  The  maxims  of  commerce  are  diffused 
through  all  classes  in  England ;  even  the  farmers  know 
that  free  "competition  is  advantageous  to  both  buyer  and 
seller.  Instead,  therefore,  of  waiting  patiently  in  their 
village  for  the  coming  of  the  butcher  or  the  recattone,  to 
buy  their  chickens,  their  potatoes,  their  cows,  and  their 
cattle,  or  that  of  the  pedlar  to  sell  them  the  little  articles 
necessary  for  their  wardrobe,  they  prefer  to  go  themselves 
to  market,  and  thus  escape  the  monopolists  to  whose 
grasp  they  would,  in  other  countries,  be  subject. 

This  custom  arises  also  partly  from  another  cause : 
cultivation  being  confined  almost  entirely  to  the  meadow 
and  the  corn  field,  turnips  and  potatoes,  leaves  the  farmer 
plenty  of  time  to  go  to  market.  In  France  and  Italy  the 
cultivation  of  the  vine,  to  say  nothing  of  the  rearing  of 
grain,  grass,  mulberry  and  other  fruit  trees,  and  Indian 
corn,  leaves  him  at  liberty  only  a  few  days  in  the  winter. 

This  custom  depends  also  in  some  degree  on  the  use 
which  is  made  of  horses  in  most  countries,  instead  of 
oxen.  In  Nottinghamshire,  oxen  are  so  rarely  employed, 


IN  ENGLAND.  107 

that,  when  yoked,  they  become  an  object  of  curiosity. 
Lord  Middleton  keeps  three  pair  of  oxen  for  the  labours 
of  his  park, — 

"  Wide-fronted  and  arch-horned," 

and  beautiful  as  Homer's  oxen  of  the  sun :  the  inhabitants 
of  Nottingham  go  to  see  them,  by  way  of  amusement, 
when  they  are  ploughing,  yoked  in  an  elegant  harness. 
The  use  of  horses  permits  the  farmer  to  go  a  good  dis- 
tance to  market  without  wasting  much  time.  It  should 
be  added,  that  the  breeding  of  horses  is  a  branch  of  rural 
industry  all  over  the  country. 

Beccaria,  in  his  "  Lessons  on  Political  Economy,"  de- 
monstrated, by  comparing  the  strength  and  longevity  of 
horses  with  those  of  oxen,  that  in  many  provinces  it 
would  be  an  improvement  to  substitute  horses  for  oxen 
in  rural  labour.  This  calculation  is  corroborated  by  some 
other  considerations  :  time  would  be  saved,  horses  doing 
every  thing  quicker  than  oxen;  there  would  be  more  ac- 
tivity and  traffic,  because,  by  the  aid  of  horses,  inter- 
course is  accelerated  ;  the  breed  of  both  horses  and  oxen 
would  improve,  the  first  from  the  greater  number  that 
would  be  required,  and  their  importance  to  the  farmer ; 
the  second,  because  they  would  scarcely  ever  be  bred  for 
any  thing  but  consumption,  as  in  England,  where  the 
beef  is  superior  to  any  other  in  the  world ;  there  would 
be  better  cavalry  for  the  army ;  men  and  horses,  fit  for 
the  purposes  of  war,  would  easily  be  found.  In  the  last 
struggle  with  France,  England  had  a  splendid  mounted 
national  guard  of  forty  thousand  strong.  The  young 
men  of  the  Lodigians  and  Lumellina  were  the  finest  ca- 
valry soldiers  of  the  ex-kingdom  of  Italy. 

This  is  not  altogether  a  vision  of  my  own ;  Berra,  a 
well  informed  and  diligent  observer,  having,  in  his  travels, 


108  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

studied  the  advantages  of  the  English  artificial  meadows, 
and  explained  and  recommended  the  cultivation  of  them 
to  his  countrymen,  in  an  excellently  written  little  work. 
Does  not  his  advice,  which  tends  to  the  substitution  of  a 
more  useful  and  constant  crop  for  that  of  grain,  which  is 
always  uncertain,  and  in  Lombardy  has  been  declining, 
year  by  year,  from  1818  downwards,  coincide  with  these 
thoughts  of  mine  ?  England,  sixty  years  ago,  was  in  the 
same  condition  as  Lombardy  at  present:  it  produced 
more  grain  than  was  necessary.  Finding  no  longer  a  con- 
venient vent  for  the  surplus,  the  landholders  diminished 
the  culture  of  grain,  and  took  more  to  increasing  the  pas- 
ture, and  the  rearing  of  horses  and  cattle ;  and  they  find 
this  more  profitable  than  if  they  had  kept  the  whole  of 
the  land  arable.  If  the  advocate  Berra  would  imitate 
the  perseverance  of  the  senator  Dandolo,  and  join  prac- 
tice to  precept,  he  would  confer  a  distinguished  service 
on  his  country ;  by  getting  a  greater  produce  from  the 
land,  by  liberating  the  country  from  the  obligation  of 
importing  horses  from  abroad,  as  it  is  now  forced  to  do, 
not  only  for  the  luxury  of  the  great,  but  for  the  necessi- 
ties of  agriculture.  In  Lombardy  itself,  as  appears  from 
Verri's  book  on  corn,  218,920  perches  of  arable  were 
converted  into  meadow,  in  the  country  around  Pavia  and 
Lodi,  from  1753  to  1768 ;  at  which,  if  I  recollect  right, 
Verri,  zealous  for  the  cultivation  of  grain,  expresses  his 
regret,  without  reason,  in  my  opinion,  for  surely  agricul- 
tural, as  well  as  manufacturing,  industry  ought  to  follow 
and  to  second  the  vicissitudes  of  commerce  and  consump- 
tion. If  Lombardy  can  no  longer  find  an  advantageous 
vent  for  its  corn,  why  not  plant  vines  (where  they  will 
thrive),  why  not  make  artificial  meadows,  since  there  is 
invariably  an  annual  balance  of  trade  against  it  in  wines 
and  foreign  cattle  ? 

England  has,  in  all  undertakings  relating  to  mining, 


IN  ENGLAND.  109 

manufactures,  commerce,  and  agriculture,  a  considerable 
advantage  over  the  other  countries  of  Europe,  in  the  pe- 
cuniary assistance  of  the  country  banks.  These,  either 
on  mortgage,  or  simply  on  personal  security,  advance 
capital  for  every  sort  of  enterprise,  in  notes  which  circu- 
late throughout  their  own  county.  There  is  hardly  a 
farmer  in  England  who  takes  an  estate  on  lease,  who 
does  not  assure  himself  beforehand,  that,  in  case  of  de- 
ficiency in  his  own  funds,  a  neighbouring  banker  will 
assist  him  with  a  loan,  to  be  repaid  when  the  fruits  of 
his  improvements  are  gathered.  One  of  these  banks 
alone  had  at  one  time  one  million  pounds  sterling  lent  to 
the  farmers  and  tradesmen  of  a  single  county.  It  must 
not  be  thought,  however,  that  England  is  El  Dorado ;  all 
these  portentous  sums  are — paper. 

An  English  market  or  fair  would  not  be  a  good  sub- 
ject for  the  picture  of  the  Flemish  school,  like  most  of 
the  country  markets  in  Italy.  In  vain  would  a  painter 
seek  for  the  capricious  dresses  of  the  Alpine  women, 
who  descend  to  the  market  of  Varallo,  those  little  hats, 
carelessly  thrown  on ;  those  ear  rings,  those  coral  neck- 
laces, and  bright  gold  buttons ;  in  vain  would  he  look  for 
the  women  of  Fobello,  their  wild  goats  in  their  arms, 
with  short  petticoats,  and  dresses  of  the  most  sympathetic 
colours  in  the  world,  white,  red,  and  blue ;  in  vain  would 
he  wish  to  delineate  the  bacchanals  of  the  fair  of  Imbevera, 
the  jumping, tooth-(and-gum)-drawing  quacksi  the  groups 
of  speechifying  country  topers  about  a  barrel  set  abroach, 
the  singing,  the  quarrelling,  the  dancing  of  the  villagers 
to  the  sound  of  the  pipes.  In  vain  would  the  poet,  like  a 
Lorenzo  de  Medici,  seek  for  a  Mencia  da  Barberino: — 

"  And  two  such  eyes  she  has — 'tis  quite  a  feast, 
When  she  uplifts  them  and  toward  you  glances, 
10 


1  10  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

And  in  the  midst,  just  to  a  hair  between 

A  lovely  nose — the  loveliest  ever  seen, 
It  seems  bored  with  a  wimble  at  the  least, 

And  then,  oh,  how  she  dances! 
She  darts  just  like  a  goat  from  clift  to  clift, 
And  turns — no  mill-whesl  ever  turn'd  so  swift ! 

And  pops  her  hand  into  her  very  shoe, 
And  when  the  dance  is  done,  curtsies  so  free, 

And  turns  and  makes  a  skip  or  two, — 
There's  not  a  Florence  dame  could  do't  so  well  as  she  !'* 

There  is  nothing  of  all  this  in  England.  The  country 
people  are  hardly  distinguishable  by  their  dresses  from 
the  inhabitants  of  cities.  Besides,  in  this  most  serious 
and  formal  country,  every  things  proceeds  with  due  gra- 
vity and  order.  If  the  election  times  be  excepted,  when 
it  appears  as  if  the  English  people  changed  their  nature, 
and  became  seized  with  a  periodical  frenzy ;  the  English- 
man  always  even  rebels,  gets  drunk,  and  kills  himself, 
with  an  air  of  decorum.  A  greater  silence  prevails  at  an 
English  market  than  in  St.  Peter's  at  Rome.  But  this 
noiseless  scene  presents  to  the  eye  of  the  philosopher  a 
consoling  spectacle :  he  sees  those  country  folks  who,  on 
the  continent,  are  every  where  the  laughing-stock  of  the 
inhabitants  of  cities,  respected  here  as  equals :  he  sees  a 
population  well  shod  and  completely  clothed,  coming  to 
provide  objects  of  comfort  for  their  families ;  and  sitting 
down,  when  the  clock  strikes  the  hour  of  one,  to  a  good 
and  substantial  dinner. 

These  markets  are  not  supplied  with  so  great  a  variety 
of  eatables,  especially  fruit  and  vegetables,  as  ours.  The 
hair  of  a  French  cook  would  stand  on  end  with  horror 
to  see  these  markets,  furnished  with  only  three  things, 
potatoes,  meat,  and  cheeses.  In  this  country  there  is  a 
wonderful  uniformity  in  every  thing, — in  salutations,  in 


IN  ENGLAND.  1 1 1 

gestures,  in  tones  of  voice,  in  dress,  in  houses,  and  even 
in  victuals.  Elegance,  pomp,  imagination,  or  rather 
caprice, — all  these  have  their  dominion  in  France :  here 
reign  only  good  sense,  the  love  of  the  useful,  of  the  good, 
of  the  better.  Fashion  is  here  not  the  device  of  change, 
but  of  improvement.  The  uniformity  of  customs  and 
tastes  is  one  source  of  the  improvements  which  are  made 
at  every  step  in  England ;  because,  owing  to  this,  there 
is  always  an  extended  sale  to  reward  and  encourage  the 
inventor ;  and  the  attention  of  a  great  number  of  con- 
sumers is  fixed  on  the  same  article,  which,  by  the  expe- 
riments of  many,  goes  on  continually  getting  better  and 
better. 

In  these  markets,  however,  a  commodity  is  to  be  met 
with,  which  is  very  rarely  found  in  the  markets  of  the 
continent — books.  How  often  have  I  seen  two  or  three 
hundred  volumes  exposed  for  sale  on  a  stall,  and  disap- 
pear in  a  couple  of  hours !  Scarcely  have  I  been  able  to 
make  my  way  to  the  bench,  such  a  crowd  of  farmers  has 
been  standing  looking  over  the  books,  reading,  selecting, 
purchasing.  What  a  favourable  idea  must  not  the  tra- 
veller form  of  the  enlightenment  of  a  people  who  read 
and  buy  books — and  what  books?  Not  interpretations  of 
dreams,  legends,  nor  such  nonsense,  but  Bibles, — the 
works  of  Addison,  Spectators, — Milton's — Milton,  the 
English  Homer.  I  do  not  call  him  by  this  appellation 
in  mere  wantonness  of  words,  but  because,  in  the  same 
manner  that  Homer  was  known  by  heart  to  all  the 
Greeks,  Milton  is  the  guest  of  every  family  in  the  coun- 
try. Education  is  become  so  common  in  England  that, 
by  way  of  economy,  ladies  are  now  employed  to  make 
the  calculations  for  the  Nautical  Almanac. 

The  markets  are  the  preserves  of  the  English  army, 
which  is  mostly  filled  up  by  recruiting,  as  there  is  no 
conscription.  Conscription,  it  is  true,  is  a  tax  of  blood 


112  THE    ITALIAN    EXILE 

and  sinews,  so  much  the  more  burdensome  when  it  is 
paid  to  a  tyrannical  or  a  foreign  government,  which  op- 
presses the  vanquished  by  means  of  the  vanquished 
themselves;  but  I  prefer  conscription  to  recruiting  at  all 
hazards.  Even  under  a  usurping  government  it  is  not 
so  vile  to  serve  by  force  as  by  choice :  besides,  re- 
cruiting is  a  bargain  between  a  scoundrel  and  a  fool. 
About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  market 
is  more  crowded  than  ever,  you  hear  the  noise  of  four 
or  five  drums  and  fifes,  and  see  a  handful  of  soldiers, 
with  gaudy  watch  ribbons,  and  cockades  in  their  hats, 
with  round,  plump  faces  (as  if  war  were  a  mere  fool's 
paradise),  better  dressed  and  better  looking  altogether 
than  other  soldiers,  the  better  to  entice  and  deceive : — 
you  see,  I  say,  this  recruiting  party  advance  into  the 
thickest  of  the  market,  to  show,  in  triumph  to  the  multi- 
tude, two  or  three  young  men,  who  for  three  or  four 
guineas  have  sold  their  lives, — I  know  not  whether  to 
their  country,  their  king,  or  their  love  of  laziness.  Their 
hats  are  decorated  with  silk  ribands,  exactly  as  they 
were  wont,  in  ancient  times,  to  garland  the  horns  of  the 
rams  destined  for  sacrifice.  This  simulated  pomp,  this 
lying  merriment,  brings  to  my  mind  the  festival  that 
used  to  accompany  the  vow  of  chastity  and  perpetual 
imprisonment,  pronounced  by  the  young  women  who  be- 
came nuns.  And  yet  we  wonder  that  the  Germans  of 
old  used  to  set  their  liberty  on  the  cast  of  the  die  !  Mon- 
tesquieu proved  that  man  has  no  right  to  sell  himself. 
The  English  speak  with  horror  of  the  slave  trade :  yet 
what  difference  is  there  between  the  African,  who,  cheated 
and  deceived,  sold  himself  to  a  slave  dealer  (as  was  often 
the  case),  and  the  man,  who  heated  with  wine,  and  allured 
by  false  promises,  sells  himself  for  a  few  guineas  to  a 
lying  sergeant  ?  I  am  pleased  to  find  that,  on  this  point, 


IN  ENGLAND.  113 

the  divine  Ariostp  thought  as  I  do :  speaking  of  the  levy 
made  by  Charlemagne  throughout  his  empire,  he  says : — 

"  Non  si  sentiva  allor  questo  romore,"  &c. 

"  Not  then  was  heard  the  sound  so  common  now, 

Of  noisy  drums,  parading  round  and  round, 
Inviting  all  the  boldest  from  the  plough, 

Or  rather  those  of  pates  the  most  unsound, 
For  three  crown  pieces,  or  for  less,  to  go, 

To  where  each  moment  brings  a  mortal  wound. 
Yes,  foolish  will  I  rather  call  than  bold, 

Whoe'er  so  cheaply  hath  his  life-blood  sold. 

"  Honour  should  ever  be  preferred  to  life, 

But  nothing  else  but  honour  ever  should ; 
Rather  than  lose  thy  honour, — in  the  strife, 

To  lose  a  life,  a  thousand  lives,  were  good ; 
But  who  lays  bare  his  breast  to  fortune's  knife, 

For  gold  or  abject  gain,  he,  if  he  could 
But  find  a  buyer,  I  to  think  incline 

Would  cheaper  than  his  own  life,  sell  him  mine !" 

Of  late  years,  covered  market  places  have  been  built  in 
the  principal  towns ;  for  instance,  Leeds,  Manchester,  Liv- 
erpool, &c.,  where,  regularly  arranged,  and  judiciously 
divided  from  each  other,  all  the  meat  stalls  may  be  seen 
at  a  glance,  ranged  in  one  line,  those  of  fish  in  another, 
those  of  vegetables  in  a  third,  and  so  on.  In  the  evening 
they  are  all  lighted  with  gas  till  eleven  o'clock,  as  bril- 
liantly as  a  theatre.  Henri  Quatre,  the  king  of  peasants 
and  not  of  courtiers,  would  have  shouted  for  joy  to  see 
these  markets  crowded  with  servant  maids,  and  work- 
ing men's  wives,  neatly  dressed,  with  nice  little  baskets 
on  their  arms,  providing  some  good  joint  of  beef  and 
10* 


114  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

mutton,  which  makes  its  appearance,,  smoking  hot  and 
glorious,  on  the  Sunday,  and  afterwards,  diminished  in 
size,  but  never  disfigured,  appears  and  disappears  at 
meals  for  several  days.  I  must  here  inform  my  coun- 
trymen (certainly  to  their  supreme  amazement)  that 
there  is  no  set  price  in  England  for  meat :  each  part  of 
the  ox  has  a  different  and  arbitrary  price,  according  to 
its  quality.  The  finer  parts,  the  rump  steak  and  the 
roast  beef  (del  rumpstake,  del  roslbeef,)  have  the  highest 
value  set  upon  them,  the  other  parts  a  lower,  and  the 
coarse  pieces  a  very  low  price.  In  many  and  many  of 
the  populous  towns,  for  example  in  Manchester,  there  is 
no  assize  of  bread ;  yet  this  does  not  occasion  frauds  or 
disputes.  In  London  every  joint  of  meat  has  its  price 
fixed  on  it, — the  same  with  bread.  But  how  is  it  that 
monopoly  does  not  come  into  play?  Because  there  is 
liberty.  Verri  said,  "  I  venture  to  predict  that  the  time 
will  come,  when  no  set  price  will  be  fixed  on  any  com- 
modity, and  the  number  of  sellers  will  no  longer  be 
limited,  when  every  one  will  be  freely  permitted  to  bake 
bread,  and  to  sell  it ;  when  meat,  butter,  &c.  will  be  sold 
at  the  price  freely  offered  and  taken."  This  prophecy 
has  not  yet  come  to  pass  in  Lombardy,  and  perhaps 
never  will  until  the  year  2240,  that  Mercia  dreamt  of! 

The  market  in  manufacturing  towns  is  held  on  the 
Saturday.  About  five  in  the  afternoon,  all  the  factories 
stop  work,  and  the  men  soon  after  receive  their  wages. 
Then  an  enormous  crowd  begins  to  pour  into  the  streets, 
and  invade  the  markets  and  the  public  houses, — all, 
however,  in  most  orderly  disorder,  without  any  quarrelling, 
fighting,  or  uproar.  It  is  a  torrent  of  wants  and  passions, 
bursting  forth  after  a  six  days'  imprisonment,  and  over- 
flowing its  banks  on  all  sides,  yet  without  doing  any 
mischief.  These  workmen  are  like  sailors,  when  they 
get  on  shore  after  a  long  voyage. 


IN  ENGLAND.  115 

Who  would  believe  that  in  England  there  is  a  market 
for  men  and  women  ?  Not  indeed  a  market  like  those 
of  Smyrna  and  Constantinople,  but, — I  shall  explain 
myself  better  by  giving-  a  description.  On  the  23d  of 
November,  it  is  an  old  custom  in  some  counties  to  hold 
a  fair  for  servants.  All  the  farm  servants,  male  and 
female,  who  have  been  discharged,  betake  themselves  on 
this  important  day  to  some  open  space  in  the  county 
town.  Both  men  and  women  are  dressed  in  their  best 
clothes,  in  order  to  appear  to  the  greatest  advantage. 
They  range  themselves  in  two  lines,  exactly  like  horses 
at  a  fair :  laughter  and  good  humour  tinge  the  glow  of 
health  in  their  cheeks  still  deeper  than  before.  The 
farmers  who  are  in  want  of  fresh  servants  come  hither, 
walk  down  between  the  files,  observe  well  from  top  to 
toe,  examine  and  select :  every  servant  has  his  or  her 
certificate  of  good  character,  or  would  not  easily  find  em- 
ployment. 

Although  the  first  idea  awakened  by  such  a  market 
as  this  is  one  of  slavery,  or  at  least  of  human  degrada- 
tion, the  custom  itself  has  nothing  of  the  kind  about  it. 
All  the  servants  go  readily  and  gaily  to  the  statute,  for 
at  this  time,  that  is,  in  passing  from  one  master  to  another^ 
they  are  accustomed  to  enjoy  a  few  days'  rest  and  holiday 
at  their  own  homes;  to  express  myself  classically,  I 
should  say  that  now  they  have  their  Saturnalia.  I  always 
saw  them  merry  and  without  the  slightest  air  of  dejec- 
tion. Indeed,  if  it  be  well  considered,  the  custom  is 
advantageous  to  both  parties,  servants  and  masters,  from 
the  variety  and  choice  that  are  offered.  Reciprocal  com- 
petition is  not  of  less  utility  in  a  market  of  men  than  of 
goods : — there  is,  however,  one  inconvenience : — through 
the  facility  of  obtaining  new  places  by  this  means,  ser- 
vants are  inclined  to  change  too  often,  merely  from 
curiosity,  and  the  pleasure  of  seeing  new  houses,  new 


1  16  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

faces,  and  new  manners, — for  the  genius  of  Gil  Bias  ap~ 
pears  to  be  that  of  mankind.  Such  servants  resemble 
those  soldiers  who  like  to  often  change  their  flag,  or 
those  inconstant  beauties  who  love  to  change  their  sul- 
tans. 

The  number  of  servants  who  present  themselves  at  the 
York  statute  is  about  three  hundred.  It  lasts  two  days* 
and  the  wind-up,  as  usual,  is  always  the  public  house. 


IN  ENGLAND.  1  1  7 


ENGLISH  YOUNG  LADIES. 


When,  after  having  lost  property  and  country,  I  car- 
ried on  the  same  trade  as  Dionysius  after  he  lost  the  crown, 
and  was  consoling  myself  in  this  troublesome  profession, 
and  trying  to  ennoble  it  in  my  own  eyes  by  the  example 
of  Milton,  who  before  he  came  one  of  Cromwell's  secre- 
taries had  played  the  part  of  the  schoolmaster, — and  by 
the  example  also  of  M achiavel,  who  after  having  been 
secretary  to  the  Florentine  republic,  and  many  times 
ambassador,  found  himself  almost  reduced  to  the  neces- 
sity of  practising  this  profession  in  some  Tuscan  vil- 
lage,*— I  received  a  polite  note  from  a  clergyman  of  the 
English  church,  requesting  me  to  give  lessons  in  Italian 
to  his  three  daughters :  I  complied  without  hesitation. 
And  now  behold  me,  one  fine  morning,  mounted  on  a 
hired  horse  (which  might  compete  with  an  Italian  brig- 

*  "  I  must  remain  then  in  my  rags,  without  being  able  to  find 
any  man  to  remember  my  services,  or  think  me  good  for  anything. 
But  it  is  impossible  that  I  can  do  so  long,  because  I  am  daily  grow- 
ing poorer,  and  I  foresee,  that  if  God  does  not  show  himself  more 
favourable  to  me,  I  shall  be  forced  to  forsake  my  house,  and  hire 
myself  for  a  teacher  or  clerk  to  some  magistrate,  since  I  can  do  no 
otherwise, — or  establish  myself  in  some  remote  corner  of  the  land, 
and  teach  children  to  read  and  write,  leaving  my  party  here  to  be- 
lieve me  dead."  So  wrote  this  great  and  good  Italian  to  Francisco 
Vettori,  on  the  3d  August,  1514. 


1  18  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

liadoro),  riding  off  at  a  smart  trot  to  a  village  (which 
the  English  rather  emphatically  call  a  town),  where  the 
clergyman's  family  resided.  This  town  by  hyperbole  is 
inhabited  solely  by  small  farmers.  The  houses  are  of 
the  natural  red  colour  of  brick,  so  disagreeable  to  the 
eye,  yet  nevertheless  so  general  in  England,  except  the 
inns,  which  are  whitewashed,  and  the  clergyman's  house, 
which  might  be  termed  the  sun  of  the  village.  I  alight- 
ed at  an  inn,  which  was  neat,  and  furnished  with  every 
convenience ;  such  as  would  not  be  found  in  one  of  the 
most  superb  cities  in  Italy.  When  English  houses  are 
to  be  mentioned,  it  is  impossible  not  to  follow  the  exam- 
ple of  Homer,  and  constantly  repeat  the  same  epithet 
"  neat."  The  fire  had  already  long  been  burning  in  the 
stranger's  room,  the  newspapers  on  the  table  promised  a 
compensation  for  the  rigid  silence  that  stagecoach  pas- 
sengers observe  :  on  one  shelf  were  brushes,  that  a  spot- 
less purity  might  be  preserved, — on  another  a  book  of 
religious  morals,  and  writing  materials,  clean  and  un- 
stained. I  rested  myself  at  my  ease,  gazing  at  the  en- 
gravings of  thirty  or  forty  years  old,  which,  unhappy 
elves !  from  great  cities  and  elegant  apartments,  gene- 
rally descend  in  their  latter  days  to  embellish  the  hum- 
ble dwellings  of  some  rustic  village.  My  repose  was 
not  in  the  least  disturbed  by  those  inhospitable  offers  the 
landlords  make  every  moment  in  Italy,  by  way  of  get- 
ting off  their  old  stale  provisions ;  seasoned  with  pane- 
gyrics just  about  as  true  as  panegyrics  usually  are.  I 
rang  the  bell  when  it  pleased  me ; — a  servant  girl  in- 
stantly appeared ;  I  ordered  breakfast — breakfast  in- 
stantly appeared :  I  rang  again  when  I  had  done,  and 
the  girl  again  appeared :  I  ordered  her  to  clear  away, 
and  every  thing  vanished  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  ; 
the  whole  was  done  by  a  few  magic  monosyllables. 
Eleven  o'clock  struck ;  it  was  the  hour  appointed  for 


IN  ENGLAND.  1  1 9 

the  lesson :  in  England,  time  is  all  distributed, — there 
is  no  margin,  punctuality  is  more  than  a  duty.  Even  I, 
therefore,  exact  as  the  church  clock,  entered  at  the  in- 
stant the  garden  in  front  of  the  clergyman's  house,  fill- 
ed with  shrubs  and  flowers,  with  pathways  unsoiled  by 
the  smallest  litter,  thick-planted  with  shady  trees  in 
front,  not  so  much  to  protect  the  house  from  the  sun  and 
wind,  as  to  screen  it  from  the  impertinent  gaze  of  the 
passengers.  In  this  country,  modesty  every  where  holds 
dominion;  neither  houses  nor  inhabitants  thrust  them- 
selves forward  with  that  boldness  and  confidence  which 
seem  natural  to  Italians  and  Italian  dwellings,  the  latter 
of  a  glaring  white,  and  on  the  very  verge  of  the  public 
road. 

All  was  quiet,  as  in  the  hour  of  the  siesta  in  Spain, 
but  in  English  families  it  is  not  Morpheus  that  reigns, 
but  his  brother  deity,  Harpocrates,  the  god  of  silence : 
they  go  up  and  down  stairs  as  noiselessly  as  ghosts 
could  do,  if  there  were  any.  If  it  be  true  that  silence 
is  a  contra-stimulus,  depressing  the  spirits  and  the  tem- 
perament, I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  this  may  be  one 
of  the  causes  why  the  passions  are  weak  and  compress- 
ed in  England. — I  knocked  at  the  door  with  a  rat-tat-tat, 
to  give  the  servants  to  understand  that  I  was  a  visiter, 
and  not  some  working  man  or  tradesman,  who  may  not  an- 
nounce themselves  other  wise  than  by  a  gentle  single  knock. 
A  footman  in  velvet  breeches,  with  white  cotton  stock- 
ings (not  clocked  however),  opened  the  door,  and  show- 
ed me  the  way  to  the  dining  room,  leaving  me  there  by 
myself,  while  he  went  to  announce  me  to  the  master  of 
the  house.  A  fire  fit  for  an  auto-da-fe  shone  in  the 
grate, — every  thing  was  in  its  place,  as  if  there  were  go- 
ing to  be  a  general  review.  A  japanned  basket,  painted 
green,  lay  in  front  of  one  of  the  long  windows,  full  of  gera- 
niums in  bloom,  grown  in  the  hot-house,  surrounded  by 


120  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

several  other  little  vases  of  beautiful  flowers,  brought 
also  from  thence  in  turn  to  adorn  the  room  dedicated  to 
the  reception  of  visiters.  After  a  few  minutes'  pause, 

behold  the  Reverend entering  the  room  with  an 

affable  smile.  I  had  no  difficulty  in  discovering  that 
the  master  of  the  house  stood  before  me,  having  seen  a 
portrait  of  him  hanging  from  one  of  the  walls,  extreme- 
ly like.  "  Beautiful  weather,  very  fine  day"  (although 
it  had  rained  two  or  three  times  in  the  morning),  this 
eternal  daily  ceremony  of  England,  was  the  exordium. 

The  Rev. was  a  man  of  about  forty-five  years  of 

age,  in  florid  health.  The  felicity  of  his  condition  was 
painted  on  his  cheerful  and  vivacious  countenance :  his 
forehead  was  not  darkened  by  any  of  those  wrinkles  or 
clouds  which  are  imprinted  there  either  by  misfortune  or 
assiduous  study.  His  white  teeth  and  his  good  humour 
showed  that  his  digestion  was  also  good.  I  afterwards 
learned,  that  the  secret  of  all  this,  his  elixir  of  life,  and 
fountain  of  perpetual  youth,  was  the  exercise  he  took  in 
fox-hunting,  shooting,  and  fishing,  with  a  sequel  and  ap- 
pendix of  good  dinners  and  good  wines.  His  coat, 
made  in  the  fashion  of  the  English  riding-coat,  was  of 
velvet,  a  stuff  which  excites  in  all,  from  king  to  mule- 
teer, more  respect  than  any  other.  Except  this,  there 
was  not  the  most  remote  indication  of  his  profession 
about  him. 

A  few  moments  afterwards  entered  the  wife  of  the 

Rev. ,  who,  without  stirring  from  the  fire,  where 

he  was  now  standing,  with  his  back  towards  it  in  the  con- 
tinental mode,  intimated  to  me  that  I  saw  the  lady  of 
the  house.  While  I,  with  my  riding  whip  in  my  hand, 
twisting  myself  like  a  French  dancing-master,  bending 
my  head  a  little  on  one  side,  and  drawing  my  lips  toge- 
ther, muttered  a  compliment  in  French,  flavoured  with 
the  usual  charme  and  enchante,  ]^s. ,  with  a 


IN  ENGLAND.  121 

cold  repelling  mien,  and  an  indifferent  air,  took  her  way 
towards  the  fire-place,  turning  her  head  meanwhile  to- 
wards me.  She  was  tall,  well  made,  and,  without  being 
haughty,  showed  an  esteem  for  herself  which  was  cer- 
tainly merited.  I  was  told  that  she  had  been  a  very 
beautiful  woman,  and  this  time  I  found  that  the  frequent 
English  exaggerations  on  the  beautiful  and  the  wonder- 
ful did  not  far  exceed  the  truth.  After  a  few  moments 
she  left  us,  and  went  up  stairs  to  warn  her  daughters  to 
have  every  thing  in  readiness.  Meantime,  the  Rev. 
made  a  digression  to  me  on  the  ancient  histo- 
rians, gave  me  to  understand  that  he  was  connected  by 
friendship  with  Lord  Byron,  asked  me  to  stay  to  dinner, 
and  paid  me  a  thousand  other  civilities.  I  perceived 
from  this  checkered  discourse,  that  he  was  familiar 
with  the  higher  classes,  that  he  was  rich,  and  that,  in 
spite  of  fox-hunting,  he  was  well  versed  in  the  classics. 
These  few  indications  were  to  me  the  armorial  bearings 
of  the  family. 

In  an  easy  and  good-mannered  tone,  he  shortly  after 
subjoined  that  I  might  walk  up  stairs,  and  he  himself 
preceded  me  to  show  the  way.  I  found  the  drawing 
room,  as  usual,  occupied  by  several  tables,  with  a  piano, 
with  books,  and  ladies'  work.  My  scholars  were  stand- 
ing upright,  with  the  accustomed  cold  and  modest  Eng- 
lish air,  enough  to  freeze  a  compliment  stiff  on  the  lips 
of  a  Parisian.  The  eldest  was  a  young  lady  of  nineteen, 
slender,  and  even  rather  thin,  of  a  brunette  complexion, 
with  black  hair,  black  eyes,  and  very  white  and  regular 
teeth, — an  ornament  rather  rare  in  England,  among 
gentlemen  as  well  as  ladies.  Her  smile  was  sweet,  and 
the  expression  of  her  countenance  angelico-Italian.  She 
had  all  the  requisites  to  make  me  a  Saint-Preux.  The 
second  was  a  lusus  natura,  an  Albino,  well  made,  of  a 
very  bright  complexion,  with  hair,  eyebrows,  and  eye- 
11 


122  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

lashes,  completely  white,  and  eyes  approaching  to  red. 
Every  word,  every  motion,  was  a  zephyr, — she  was  all 
sweetness.  Although  very  short-sighted,  she  seemed  to 
me  more  advanced  in  her  studies  than  her  elder  sister, 
which  is  always  a  compensation  for  a  little  less  beauty. 
The  third  was  a  girl  of  thirteen,  pretty,  like  her  elder 
sister,  very  vivacious  in  her  glances,  which  she  threw, 
now  stealthily  at  me  while  I  was  reading,  now  at  her 
elder  sister,  when  she  had  to  answer  me  something. 
Their  mother,  during  the  lesson,  kept  on  working,  talk- 
ing at  times  in  an  under  tone  to  some  one  of  her  daugh- 
ters when  they  happened  to  be  at  rest,  and  answering 
for  them,  when,  on  my  asking  them  what  they  knew  of 
French  and  Italian,  they  cast  down  their  eyes,  and  did 
not  presume  to  utter  their  own  praises.  The  fact  was, 
that  they  were  well  instructed,  knew  French  exceeding- 
ly well,  and  with  all  imaginable  candour  showed  me  the 
difficulties  they  met  with  in  reading  Metastasio,  whom 
they  delighted  in.  My  amphibious  situation,  as  I  may 
call  it,  was  a  diversion  to  me.  Now  I  seemed  to  myself 
born  to  play  the  master,  and  hired  to  dissertate  on  arti- 
cles and  concordances ;  now  I  seemed  to  take  the  part 
of  Count  Almaviva,  in  the  "  Barber  of  Seville,"  espe- 
cially when  the  milkwhite  hand  of  the  first  of  these  dam- 
sels  (the  very  hand  described  by  Ariosto)  followed  with 
the  finger  the  lines  of  the  book.  Now,  all  the  ticklish 
allusions  to  which  the  grammatical  terminations  give 
rise  in  Italian  coming  to  my  mind,  I  was  ready  to  burst 
with  laughter  when  it  fell  to  me  to  speak  of  the  preterite, 
&c.  The  hands  of  the  English  and  Irish  ladies  are  so 
beautiful,  that  Ossian  often  apostrophises  the  Irish  mai- 
dens as  "  the  white  hands  of  Erin."  It  is  a  pity  that 
in  this  country  kissing  of  hands  is  not  the  fashion.  The 
Italians  often  call  their  beloved  "  beautiful  .eyes  of  my 


IN  ENGLAND.  123 

happiness ;"  the  French  might  apostrophise  theirs  with 
"  dearly  beloved  feet." 

In  the  most  indifferent  matters,  and  even  in  families 
of  less  than  celestial  blood,  primogeniture  is  always  re- 
spected ;  my  fair  pupils,  therefore,  always  came  to 
their  lessons  in  the  order  of  age.  When  the  lessons 
were  ended,  we  descended  to  the  dining-room,  where  a 
most  noble  luncheon  (a  substantial  refection  between 
breakfast  and  dinner)  was  prepared.  The  lady  of  the 
house  repeatedly  offered  me  some  cold  beef,  some  rice- 
milk,  custards,  &c.,  but  as  there  is  no  pleasure  in  a  re- 
past not  seasoned  with  intimate  friendship,  and  uncheck- 
ed merriment,  I  declined,  and  returned  to  the  inn. 
While  my  horse  was  being  saddled,  I  cast  a  glance  at 
the  village  church,  an  ancient  structure,  and  in  appear- 
ance older  still,  from  the  Gothic  form  in  which  the 
churches  of  the  Anglican  religion  are  almost  uniformly 
built,  and  after  receiving  a  bow  from  the  landlord,  that 
seemed  to  smack  of  feudal  vassalage,  put  spurs  to  my 
horse,  and  set  off  at  a  gallop  through  the  solitary  country. 

This  family,  which  I  have  described  with  English 
fidelity  and  minuteness, — this  family,  of  a  cold  and  reserved 
demeanour,  under  which,  however,  in  England  a  warm 
and  affectionate  heart  is  often  hidden, — belongs  to  that 
class  of  gentry  which  has  all  the  luxury  and  refinement 
of  the  opulent  nobility,  without  their  vices  and  defects. 
Whoever  wishes  to  become  acquainted  with  an  educa- 
tion still  more  refined,  and  in  a  higher  grade  of  the 
landed  aristocracy,  approaching  to  high  life,  must  follow 
me  in  another  narration. 


124  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 


SEQUEL, 


<  was  a  visit  in  debt  to  a  widow  lady,  mother  of  two 
beautiftil  girls,  through  an  invitation  to  dinner  I  had  re- 
ceived. This  lady's  villa  is  situated  in  a  delicious  spot, 
at  the  foot  of  a  hill  crowned  by  an  old  and  noble  wood, 
approached  by  a  winding,  gently  sloping  path  across 
meadows  and  plantations  within  the  same  enclosure. 
The  house  is  protected  from  the  wind,  and  from  excessive 
heat ;  it  is  not  large,  in  comparison  with  the  immense 
and  useless  Italian  palaces,  but  is  sufficiently  spacious 
for  an  English  villa,  and  enjoys  a  view  of  a  range  of 
hills,  irregular  in  form,  clad  with  trees,  and  within  the 
space  that  can  be  taken  in  by  the  eye.  The  quiet,  the 
mystery  of  the  neighbouring  wood,  the  song  of  the  birds, 
the  flocks  feeding  in  the  meadows,  all  seem  to  say, 
"  Here  reigns  love !"  What  then  if  I  add  that  the  two 
young  ladies  of  the  mansion  are  beautiful,  graceful,  and 
courteous,  with  rosy  cheeks,  and  copious  ringlets  of 
flowing  hair — 

"  Whose  large  blue  eyes,  fair  locks  and  snowy  hands," 
Might  shake  the  saintship  of  an  anchorite  ?' — Byron. 

AJmost  every  day  did  they  ride  out  alone  with  their 
groom,  on  excursions  over  the  neighbouring  country,  and 
are  sometimes  present  for  a  few  moments  at  a  foxchase, 


IN  ENGLAND.  125 

when,  at  Reynard's  first  breaking  cover,  the  shrill  horn 
and  the  cry  of  a  hundred  panting  hounds  are  heard  to- 
gether, and  the  red-coated  horsemen,  leaping  hedge  and 
ditch,  scour  the  country  at  a  headlong  gallop.  They 
have  passsed  two  or  three  months  at  Paris,  speak  of  it 
with  enthusiasm,  and  are  eager  to  return.  They  speak 
French,  and  stammer  a  little  Italian.  The  piano,  the 
harp,  drawing,  light  reading,  the  conservatory,  and  a 
little  flower  garden  cultivated  with  their  own  hands, 
divide  the  time  that  riding,  visiting,  balls,  invitations, 
and  the  annual  two  months'  visit  to  London,  leave  them. 
I  had  selected  a  rainy  day,  that  I  might  be  sure  of  find- 
ing the  family  at  home ;  but  the  English  ladies  pay  little 
regard  to  the  weather.  I  had  not  got  half  across  the 
garden  before  I  perceived  the  carriage,  which  was  just 
on  the  point  of  setting  out.  I  approach  the  door, — I  am 
welcomed  with  a  courtesy  more  than  polite.  The 
mother  was  in  the  coach,  along  with  the  younger  daugh- 
ter, who  is  also  the  handsomer  of  the  two.  On  seeing 
this  I  went  through  a  thousand  antics,  professed  myself 
au  desespoir,  desalt,  &c.,  and  gave  in  to  all  the  carica- 
ture we  practise  on  the  continent.  The  graceful  F , 

by  way  of  consoling  me,  informed  me  that  her  sister  was 
at  home,  and  would  be  very  glad  to  see  me.  This  inti- 
mation recalled  me  to  life.  I  should  never  have  looked 
for  the  good  fortune  of  such  a  passport ; — I  devoured  at 
a  stride  the  piece  of  road  between  me  arid  the  house,  I 
knock  and  re-knock  impatiently.  A  maid  servant  opens 
the  door,  and  invites  me  to  walk  into  a  room  on  the  right. 
As  I  had  always  seen  the  mistress  of  the  house  on  the 
left  hand,  I  did  not  understand  her  directions,  and  en- 

tered  another  room ;  but   the  beautiful  C soon 

came  in,  and  courteously  saluting  me,  invited  me  to  her 

own  room,  her  parlour.     Severe  Italian  matrons  ought 

here  to  reflect  that  the  colloquy  was  between  a  beautiful 

11* 


126  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

young  woman,  and  a  wandering-  exile,  who  leayes  no 
trace  of  actions,  as  official  persons  must  do  wherever 
they  pass  ;  that  I  had  not  concealed  the  impression  made 
upon  me  by  the  lively  and  sparkling  eyes  of  the  beautiful 
C at  other  times  ;  that  in  the  room — 

"  Alone  we  were,  and  all  without  suspicion ;" 

that  no  guardian,  no  authorised  Cerberus  of  that  garden 
of  the  Hesperides,  was  in  the  house,  that  no  one  would 
have  dared  to  enter  that  sanctum  sanctorum  unless  sum- 
moned by  the  bell,  that  a  good  fire  was  burning,  that  a 
beautiful  silk  sofa  received  an  exciting  warmth  from 
the  chimney  ; — yet,  instead  of  the  downcast  eyes,  the 
mutilated  words,  the  burning  blushes  in  the  face,  the 
embarrassment  that  would  accompany  such  a  situation 
in  Italy,  there  began  between  us  a  cheerful  and  unre- 
strained conversation,  with  frank  and  sparkling  eyes, 
with  smiles  and  merriment.  Hunting,  the  exhibition  of 
pictures,  the  last  new  novel,  the  Parisian  opera,  and  the 
eternal  and  inevitable  subject  of  the  English  ladies,  Lord 
Byron,  passed  away  two  hours  time  very  pleasantly. 
Many  times  did  the  prohibited  fruit  (guarded  by  the  dra- 
gon of  her  own  virtue  and  modesty,)  I  mean  my  lovely 
hostess,  offer  me  something  with  which  I  might  refresh 
myself,  and  many  times  also  entice  me  to  repeat  my 
visits.  We  were  talking  before  a  portrait  of  his  lord- 
ship, which  she  had  copied.  She  was  dressed  in  green 
silk,  with  a  border  of  yellow  riband :  my  mention  that 
the  colour  was  green,  will  spare  me  the  trouble  of  telling 

Italians   that    C had   a   complexion   of  perfect 

whiteness,  without  which  a  green  dress  would  have 
injured  her  beauty ;  but  where  is  the  lady  who  does  not 
understand  the  effect  of  colour  in  dress'  better  than 
Titian  himself? — I  gaily  took  my  leave,  my  horse 


IN  ENGLAND.  1  27 

awaited  me  at  the  door,  and  thus  I  left  this  most  inno- 
cent tete-a-tete. 

These  two  young  ladies  were  sisters  in  blood,  but  not 
in  taste.  The  younger  loved  travelling  on  the  continent, 
and  the  theatres  and  balls  of  Paris  ;  the  elder  loved  her 
country  and  its  fogs,  above  all  the  romantic  scenery  of 
Switzerland,  above  all  the  enchantments  of  Italy.  The 
one  played  on  the  piano  and  the  harp  ;  the  other  gave  up 
music,  as  she  said,  with  amiable  frankness,  for  want  of 
ear.  She  told  me  one  day,  by  way  of  compliment,  that 
she  cultivated  Italian  as  a  compensation  for  music. 
The  elder,  instead,  contented  herself  with  French.  She 
in  her  mien  was  the  more  reserved  and  stately;  the 
other,  in  her  motions,  and  her  conversation,  more  win- 
ning. Drawing  and  riding  were  accomplishments  com- 
mon to  both.  It  seemed  as  if,  like  the  Roman  emperors, 
who  divided  the  empire  between  them,  they  had  divided 
the  provinces  of  amiability ;  perhaps  it  was  a  tacit  con- 
vention, not  to  be  rivals  in  matrimony,  and  to  leave  to 
those  who  should  offer,  some  variety  in  their  choice. 
The  second  seemed  modelled  for  an  Englishman  who 
had  travelled  on  the  continent,  the  first  for  one  who  had 
never  left  old  England.  Both  however  are  amiable, 
each  in  her  own  way,  but  if  I  were  condemned  to  re- 
nounce one  of  them,  I  would  select  her  who  loves  the 
continent  the  most. 

I  have  traced  these  sketches  to  give  an  idea  of  that 
class  of  society  which  in  England  is  the  best  informed, 
the  most  hospitable,  the  most  beneficent,  and  the  most 
virtuous  of  all;  and  which,  being  there  immeasurably 
more  numerous  than  in  any  other  country,  forms,  so  to 
speak,  the  heart  of  the  nation.  I  ought  now  to  ascend  to 
that  sphere  which  Parini  delineates  in  his  poem;  but  I 
draw  myself  back, — not  so  much  because  the  higher 
classes  almost  every  where  have  a  strong  resemblance  to 


128  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

each  other,  and  model  themselves  on  the  same  code  of 
caprice,  etiquette,  prejudice,  and  nothingness,  as  because 
my  object  is  rather  to  display  the  base  of  the  national 
pyramid  than  the  apex.  This  is  the  error  reprobated  in 
several  modern  historians,  who  have  given  us  merely  the 
history  of  kings  and  courts,  as  if  a  nation  consisted  only 
of  a  monarch  and  a  few  hundred  noblemen,  and  all  the 
rest  were  only  an  anonymous  something  not  worthy  of 
a  glance :  the  same  error,  I  repeat,  may  be  imputed  to 
many  modern  travellers,  who,  instead  of  becoming  ac- 
quainted with  a  nation,  are  contented  with  knowing  a 
few  individuals.  Besides,  whoever  wishes  to  know  the 
manners  of  the  higher  classes,  may  consult  truer  and  bet- 
ter painters  than  I  am ;  such  as  Pope,  in  "  The  Rape  of 
the  Lock;"  Lord  Byron,  in  "  Don  Juan;"  the  fashionable 
newspaper,  "The  Morning  Post;"  and,  above  all,  the 
novel  under  the  title  of  "  Almack's :"  this  spirited  novel 
is  a  magic  lantern  of  the  most  ridiculous  characters  in 
the  fashionable  world,  painted  in  the  liveliest  colours. 
The  author  is  a  sort  of  Devil-on-two-sticks,  who  lays  bare 
all  the  cabals  and  littlenesses  of  the  earthly  demigods. 
But  if  the  author  should  be  a  lady,  as  I  have  some  suspi- 
cion, I  beg  to  withdraw  the  comparison  of  the  Devil-on- 
two-sticks,  and  to  say,  that  she  is  an  angel  who  writes 
like  an  angel! 


IN  ENGLAND.  129 


THE     BETROTHED. 


I  was  thinking  of  dedicating-  this  chapter  to  the  cava- 
lieri  serventi,  to  the  eternally  hysterical,  to  the  tyrants  of 
families,  and  to  those  mothers  who  believe  that  a  glance 
contaminates  their  daughters,  and  who,  anxious  to  dis- 
pose of  their  wares,  aspire  only  to  get  their  daughters 
once  fairly  married,  whoever  the  husband,  whether  an 
idiot,  a  baboon,  or  a  worn  out  libertine ;  but  I  have  since 
reflected  that  it  is  better  to  be  tolerant,  and  let  every  one 
live  on  in  his  way. 

Miss  K was  a  young  lady  of  nineteen,  tall,  hand- 
some, good  mannered,  lively,  without  being  too  gay  or 
impertinent,  of  a  fair  complexion,  with  a  soft  and  sub- 
dued but  not  a  languishing  look,  and  large  ringlets  of 
fine  dark  brown  hair ;  such  a  one,  in  short,  as  would  be 
highly  admired  by  the  double  file  of  young  men  between 
which  the  fair  Italians  have  to  pass  when  they  go  to  the 
theatre  of  La  Scala  at  Milan.  On  a  visit  she  was  paying 
to  a  family  of  her  acquaintance,  at  a  good  hundred  miles 
distance  from  the  city  she  resided  in,  she  captivated  a 
young  man  of  the  family.  He  asked  her  in  marriage,  and 
obtained  the  consent  of  the  young  lady  and  her  relations; 
but  as  the  gentleman  was  not  yet  well  advanced  in  his 
profession,  that  of  a  barrister,  it  was  agreed  to  defer  the 
ceremony  for  two  years.  In  the  mean  time,  the  betrothed 


130  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

husband  came  every  now  and  then  to  visit  his  affianced 
wife,  was  welcomed  by  all  the  family  with  a  more  than 
friendly  warmth,  and  looked  upon  and  treated  by  her 
friends  as  the  future  husband  of  the  young-  lady.  Thus 
the  two  betrothed,  instead  of  going  to  the  altar  blindfold, 
had  an  opportunity  (and  an  enviable  patience)  to  study 
each  other's  character,  to  accustom  themselves  to  mutual 
respect  in  the  presence  of  others,  and  to  correct  whatever 
blemishes  they  might  find  they  had.  To  draw  still  closer 
the  bonds  of  acquaintance  and  friendship  between  the 
two  families,  a  sister  of  the  husband  staid  for  several 
months  at  the  home  of  his  intended  wife,  rather  as  a  rela- 
tion than  a  friend;  thus,  instead  of  having  one  day  a  censo- 
rious sister-in-law,  the  bride  was  acquiring  for  herself  a 
friend  in  her  new  family,  a  bridemaid  for  her  nuptials, 
and,  from  the  gratitude  that  a  friendly  hospitality  pro- 
duces, a  supporter  and  defender  on  every  occasion. 

This  young  lady,  who  was  known  to  me  before  the 
contract  of  marriage,  did  not  alter  in  the  least  her  man- 
ners or  behaviour  towards  me.  She  was  often  beforehand 
in  inviting  me  to  take  a  walk  with  her  as  a  guest,  and  I 
had  some  times  the  honour  of  giving  her  my  arm.  Our 
walk  was  always  a  Petrarchesque  one, — on  solitary 
banks, — amid  deserted  fields,  as  the  English  taste  will 
have  it.  Two  or  three  times  she  came  to  pay  me  a  visit 
at  my  own  home, — accompanied,  however,  by  a  dear 
lively  little  sister  of  hers.  She  entered  gaily,  chatted 
good  humouredly,  and  soon  unfolded  the  object  of  her 
visit, — generally  a  polite  invitation  to  dinner  or  tea :  such 
visits  are  in  this  country  neither  an  irregularity  nor  a 
phenomenon.  Only  be  a  bachelor,  and  young  (but  not 
licentious,  at  least  openly), — and  if  you  fall  ill,  you  will 
have  the  visits  of  all  the  married  and  marriageable  ladies 
of  your  acquaintance. 

More  than  all  this, — she  knew  that  my  linen  was  ne- 


IN  ENGLAND.  131 

glected, — being  that  of  an  orphan,  destitute  of  country, 
and  wandering  over  the  face  of  the  earth, — and  she 
offered,  and  with  gentle  violence  took  upon  herself  to  set 
every  thing  to  rights :  then,  with  the  same  care  and  at- 
tention which  a  tender  wife  or  a  lovesick  damsel  would 
show  in  latitude  44,  she  mended  up  my  lacerated  equip- 
ments, and  marked  my  name  on  my  handkerchiefs  and 
shirts.  If,  in  latitude  44,  a  young  woman  had  only  knit- 
ted a  purse  for  me,  my  blind  vanity  would  have  made  me 
believe  that  purse  contained  her  heart.  But  the  heart  of 

Miss  K was  already  given  to  another,  and  she  would 

have  died  a  thousand  deaths  rather  than  be  guilty  of  an 
indiscretion  of  that  sort.  The  sacred  promise  she  had 
given,  did  not,  however,  forbid  her  from  being,  according 
to  the  laudable  custom  of  her  nation,  kind  and  courteous 
to  me  and  others.  She  had  a  way  of  always  making  ap- 
propriate and  tasteful  presents.  When  I  set  out  for 
Greece,  she  presented  me  with  a  handsome  edition  of 
Lord  Byron's  "  Childe  Harold,"  and,  when  I  returned,  it 
having  transpired  that,  in  my  new  lodging,  I  had  neither 
paper  nor  an  inkstand,  she  stole  into  my  study  when  I 
was  from  home,  with  a  cousin,  who  was  her  accomplice 
in  the  magic  freak,  and  set  upon  my  table  an  elegant 
portfolio,  an  inkstand,  and  some  very  fine  writing  paper : 
afterwards,  to  conceal  her  generous  gift,  she  pretended 
that  it  must  have  been  conferred  upon  me  by  two  of 
those  fairies  who  for  so  many  ages  have  lived  in  Eng- 
land, and  danced  at  night  in  the  woods  and  on  the  green 
sward.  I,  (and  any  body  born  under  a  burning  sun,)  I, 
who  in  Italy,  or  in  France,  should  have  conceived  the 
hope  of  a  culpable  love  from  any  single  kind  glance  that  a 
girl  might  let  fall  upon  me, — have  never  had  the  slightest 
unbecoming  thought  of  that  young  lady,  on  the  word  of 
a  man  of  honour.  No  !  far  different  is  the  effect  of  the 


132  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

confidence  placed  in  the  man,  and  of  the  consciousness  of 
virtue  in  the  lady.  Promises  of  marriage  long  before 
their  celebration  are  here  of  frequent  occurrence  in  the 
middle  classes :  if  ever  the  young  man  breaks  his  word, 
the  relations  of  the  young  woman  bring  him  before  the 
tribunals,  and,  unless  he  can  justify  his  change  of  mind, 
he  is  condemned  to  pay  a  fine  proportioned  to  his  cir- 
cumstances :  some  of  them  as  high  as  five  and  even  ten 
thousand  pounds  sterling.  It  is  true  that  this  system 
may  favour  the  perfidious  snares  of  a  Lovelace ;  but  how 
few  Lovelaces  are  to  be  feared,  when  the  satisfaction  of  a 
caprice  must  cost  so  much  time,  so  many  plots,  so  many 
falsehoods  and  dangers  !  I  believe  most  young  men 
would  rather  make  the  tour  of  the  world  on  foot,  than  go 
through  all  the  trouble  of  Richardson's  libertine  hero  to 
obtain  a  Clarissa  by  treachery.  Besides,  he  who  betrays 
a  young  female  in  England  is  visited  with  the  public 
abhorrence  to  such  a  degree,  that  Mr.  Wakefield,  who 
endeavoured  to  deceive  Miss  Turner,  was  more  detested 
on  all  hands  than  if  he  had  assassinated  George  the 
Fourth. 

I  will  relate  another  instance  of  this  innocent  liberty. 
A  young  Scotch  lady,  large,  well  made,  robust  as  the 
heroes  of  Ossian,  with  rosy  cheeks,  as  fresh  as  honey, 
had  come  from  Edinburgh,  a  distance  of  two  hundred 
miles,  in  order  to  weary  herself  by  way  of  making  less 
wearisome  the  life  of  an  aged  grandmother,  who  resided 
alone,  in  a  lone  house,  in  the  lonely  town  of  Tadcaster. 
To  a  Spanish  or  Italian  woman  this  house  would  have 
been  a  tomb ;  she  would  have  thought  herself  buried 
alive ;  the  sacrifice  she  was  making  to  relationship  would 
have  made  a  great  noise  among  her  friends,  and  the  two 
months  would  have  seemed  to  her  two  ages.  The  Scot- 
tish lady,  on  the  contrary,  discharged  her  pious  duty 


IN  ENGLAND.  133 

with  the  most  unaffected  cheerfulness.  I  paid  her  two 
visits,  both  unexpected ;  and  found  her,  on  both  occasions, 
fully  attired,  and  with  her  hair  dressed,  as  if  she  had 
been  going  to  receive  the  visits  of  an  envious  rival.  This, 
and  many  other  examples,  have  convinced  me  that  the 
English  do  not  dress  so  much  for  others  as  for  them- 
selves,— and  hence  they  are  always  well  dressed.  There 
are  generally  no  large  mirrors  in  their  rooms,  so  that 
they  have  not  even  the  sweet  gratification  of  stealing  a 
furtive  glance  at  their  own  reflection,  when  passing  be- 
fore it  on  any  pretext,  or  none.  There  are  no  balconies; 
no  custom  of  putting  the  head  out  of  window,  to  see 
what  weather  it  is,  and  who  is  going  by ;  and  in  the 
streets  there  are  neither  impertinents  nor  cicisbeos. 
John  Bull  works,  gets  on  in  the  world,  and  amasses 
money ;  and  then  he  gets  married,  without  any  manoeu- 
vres of  handkerchiefs,  windows  ajar,  and  telegraphic 


I  generally  found  my  heroine  at  her  little  table,  read- 
ing or  writing, — the  desk,  inkstead,  paper,  pens,  all  of  a 
shining  neatness ;  the  books  well  bound  and  well  printed, 
and  still  better  written.  The  young  ladies  in  England, 
as  there  is  no  embarrassment  in  conversation,  are  in  the 
habit  of  seeing  company,  and  their  reading  supplies  them 
with  interesting  themes  of  conversation:  our  mutual 
friends,  literature,  and  the  differences  of  manners,  were 
the  subjects  we  usually  talked  of.  There  are  few 
thieves  among  servants  in  proportion  to  their  numbers : 
they  are  checked  by  the  confidence  placed  in  them :  so 
even  Marshal  Richelieu  would  have  acted  with  strict 
propriety  in  our  tete-a-tete ;  yet  probably  a  man  of  spirit, 
a  conqueror,  a  Tamerlane  of  the  fair  sex,  like  Richelieu, 
would  have  renounced  the  conquest,  from  its  facility,  if 
she  had  invited  him,  as  she  did  me,  to  take  a  walk  with 
12 


134  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

her  along  the  bank  of  the  river,  near  the  house,  by  an 
almost  solitary  path,  leading  to  a  knoll  covered  with 
venerable  oaks,  and  embowered  with  thick  and  leafy 
bushes ;  yet  the  marquis  would  have  been  deceived  ;  he 
would  have  despised,  as  defenceless,  a  fortress  worthy  of 
Vauban  himself. 

We  passed  near  the  remains  of  an  ancient  camp, 
where  the  mounds  of  earth  by  which  the  Roman  legions 
were  protected  were  still  visible.  She  acted  as  my  cice- 
rone ;  and,  by  a  great  stretch  of  courtesy,  talked  to  me 
as  if  the  ancient  Romans  had  been  the  ancestors  of  the 
modern  Italians ;  and  I,  in  return,  talked  to  her  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott  as  if  he  were  the  Scottish  Ariosto.  The 
conversation  never  languished ;  and  took  my  attention 
so  entirely,  that  I  should  have  passed  a  fine  country 
house  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river  without  noticing 
it,  had  she  not  pointed  it  out  to  me.  When  we  returned 
to  the  house  dinner  was  ready,  and  she  invited  me  to 
take  refreshment.  The  grandmother  was  still  invisible, 
being  confined  to  her  chamber  by  a  cold.  When  dinner 
was  over,  at  an  inclination  of  her  head,  which  is  the 
signal  for  a  toast,  we  drank  together  a  glass  of  wine, 
composed  of  extract  of  flowers,  sugar,  and  a  little  brandy : 
it  is  called  "  British  wine,"  an  agreeable  beverage,  which 
young  ladies  are  permitted  to  drink.  She  then  showed 
me  Bohl  de  Faber's  collection  of  Spanish  romances  and 
poetry.  She  had  already  observed  to  me  that  religion 
was  the  comfort  of  the  soul,  and  the  happiness  of  families; 
she  pointed  out  to  me,  therefore,  some  religious  odes  of 
Ponce  de  Leon,  favourites  with  her,  and  truly  sublime. 
She  made  me  read  a  portion  of  the  ode  on  Holy  Solitude 
(Santa  Soledad},  in  which  the  passages  most  beautiful, 
and  most  congenial  to  the  sentiments  of  her  soul,  were 
already  marked  with  a  pencil.  It  was  now  high  time  to 


IN  ENGLAND.  135 

take  leave,  after  a  visit  of  four  hours,  which  had  passed 
as  swiftly  as  the  happiest  hours  of  love.  I  rode  back  the 
ten  miles  I  had  come,  at  a  gallop,  not  disordered,  but 
tranquillised  with  a  pleasure  resembling-  that  experienced 
at  ihe  sight  of  a  fine  picture  of  Poussin,  filled  with  beau- 
tiful nymphs  and  pleasant  snatches  of  scenery. 


136  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 


EDUCATION, 


The  young  women  of  England,  under  a  stormy  and 
inconstant  sky,  have  hearts  and  minds  peaceful  and  se- 
rene, always  equable,  and  always  docile.  My  amiable 
countrywomen,  under  a  heaven  perpetually  smiling,  have 
minds  and  hearts  always  in  a  tempest.  The  former  are 
educated  for  quiet  and  domestic  felicity;  every  thing  con- 
duces to  this  end,  the  order  and  system  of  their  lives,  the 
simplicity  of  their  food,  the  climate,  compelling  them  to 
live  in-doors,  the  silence  that  reigns  within  and  without 
their  homes,  their  long  residences  in  the  country,  all 
tend  to  soften  or  set  to  sleep  their  passions.  While  the 
latter,  animated  by  the  continual  sight  of  the  world, 
stimulated  by  a  thousand  objects,  now  treated  tyranni- 
cally, now  over-caressed,  and  then  unreasonably  contra- 
dicted, carried  to  the  theatres  and  crowded  streets,  seem 
educated  to  give  vent  to  their  passions,  brought  up  only 
to  be  haughty  and  spirited.  Hence  they  are  impassioned, 
greedy  of  distinction,  made  more  beautiful  by  the  very 
desire  of  pleasing,  but  tormented  with  a  restless  rivalry  ; 
unhappy  themselves,  they  too  often  make  all  around 
them  so.  A  true  and  excellent  comparison  of  the  Eng- 
lish women  and  the  Italian  may  be  found  in  the  "  Co- 
rinna"  of  Madame  de  Stael.  Corinna,  all  fancy,  all  im- 
pulse, all  love  of  glory,  all  passion,  was  unhappy,  and 


IN  ENGLAND.  137 

would  have  made  her  English  lover  unhappy,  had  she 
married  him.  Lucia,  instead,  all  good  sense,  sweetness, 
modesty,  and  filial  affection,  was  happy  in  her  obscurity, 
and  promised  happiness  to  her  husband.  Lucia,  after 
spending  two  hours  of  the  morning  in  painting  a  beau- 
tiful rose,  satisfied  and  contented,  shuts  it  up  in  her  port- 
folio :  Corinna  is  dissatisfied  and  discontented  with  her 
talent,  unless  she  declaims  a  hymn,  and  receives  thunders 
of  applause  from  thousands  of  auditors. 

Instead  of  producing  extempore  poetesses,  such  as  the 
Bandettinis,  the  Mazzeis,  and  the  Gorillas,  is  it  not  better 
to  produce  affectionate  wives  and  sensible  mothers  of 
families  ?  Is  not  the  picture  of  a  happy  family  (Pamela 
with  her  children)  more  touching  than  that  of  the  coro- 
nation of  Corinna  in  the  capitol  ?  Italy  boasts  Nina, 
Senti,  Stampa,  Julia  Aragona,  and  many  other  modern 
improvisatrici ;  but  would  it  not  have  tended  more  to  the 
happiness  of  its  families  to  have  hadnsuch  women  as  Miss 
Edgeworth,  Miss  Aikin,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  who  have 
written  works  for  the  education  of  children  ?  Is  it  better 
to  enjoy  a  brief  youth  of  tumultuary  pleasures,  or  an  en- 
tire life  full  of  sweet  affections ;  the  first  like  a  torrent 
that  dashes  triumphantly  over  the  rocks  for  a  space,  and 
then  leaves  its  bed  dry  and  arid;  the  second  like  a 
river  that  flows  between  humble  banks,  but  flows  for 
ever.  To  this  preachifying  of  mine,  a  witty  Frenchwo- 
man would  reply,  that  she  preferred  a  life  courte  et  bonne 
(short  and  good,  that  is  brilliant) — a  sober  Englishwoman 
would  wish  it  long  and  comfortable,  (that  is,  serene). 

The  young  women  are  accustomed  to  travelling  alone, 
sometimes  in  the  public  carriages,  for  one  or  two  hundred 
miles  together.  The  general  education  of  the  travellers, 
the  respect  professed  by  the  men  towards  the  fair  sex, 
the  protection  that  every  Englishman  is  ready  to  afford 
them,  and,  let  it  be  added,  their  frozen  demeanour  and 
12* 


138  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

immovable  eyes,  secure  them  from  the  slightest  insult  of 
equivocal  expression.  The  fact  which  the  Irish  legend 
relates,  that,  in  the  olden  time,  a  girl,  ornamented  with 
precious  jewels,  and  a  beauty  still  more  precious,  walked 
with  a  gem-decked  wand  in  her  hand  through  all  the 
island,  without  experiencing  either  interruption  or  insult, 
is  an  experiment  that  might  be  made,  or  rather  is  daily 
made,  in  England. 

Travelling  in  Ireland,  it  happened  that  one  of  the  pas- 
sengers, who  had  drunk  a  little  more  than  he  should 
have  done,  and  could  hardly  see  for  the  wine  he  had  had, 
addressed  some  equivocal  words  to  a  lady  who  sat  op- 
posite, who,  in  reality,  was  ugly  enough  to  cool  the  rap- 
tures of  a  Don  Juan.  Our  Lucretia  set  up  a  cry  of 
alarm,  and  the  coachman  instantly  stopped  the  horses, 
got  down,  told  the  drunken  man  to  get  out,  and,  like  a 
true  knight,  challenged  him  to  combat, — with  the  fists. 

To  return, — the  young  ladies,  therefore,  in  the  course 
of  the  year,  often  go  to  spend  some  time  with  their  friends 
or  relations  in  distant  parts  of  the  country.  By  these  re- 
ciprocal visits,  their  lives  are  in  no  degree  changed.  As 
in  England  they  live  every  where  in  the  same  way,  and 
time  is  every  where  equally  distributed,  the  young  lady 
who  travels,  merely  makes  a  change  of  place,  not  of 
habits  or  occupations ;  she  resumes  her  work,  her  read- 
ing, in  the  house  of  her  hosts,  as  if  she  were  still  in  the 
bosom  of  her  own  family:  not  a  year  passes  without  one 
or  two  of  these  excursions,  and,  when  they  are  of  mar- 
riageable age,  their  relations  take  them  to  pass  some 
weeks  in  London  or  Edinburgh.  Thus,  until  the  era  of 
marriage,  which  happens  between  twenty-two  and 
twenty-five  years  of  age,  their  life  passes  in  quiet  studies 
and  amusements ;  and,  after  marriage,  in  "  pleasing  du- 
ties," as  an  amiable  English  lady  told  me.  It  ought  not, 
therefore,  to  excite  surprise  that  there  is  in  England  a 


IN  ENGLAND.  139 

prodigious  number  of  old  maids.  As  their  youth  is  not 
a  state  of  slavery,  as  in  other  countries,  and  they  enjoy, 
when  marriageable,  a  liberty  of  choice,  it  happens  that 
they  are  not  at  all  anxious  to  shake  off  the  maternal 
yoke,  to  burden  themselves  with  that  of  a  husband,  and 
that  they  often  prefer  a  state  of  life  a  little  insipid,  and 
sometimes  exposed  to  derision,  to  the  miseries  of  an  ill- 
assorted  union. 


140  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 


SEQUEL,. 


There  are  no  children  in  all  the  world  more  lovely 
than  the  English,  except  perhaps  those  of  Correggio  or 
Albani.  They  are  fair  and  fresh, — true  flowers  of  spring; 
exactly  like  the  flowers  nature  creates  them,  but  care  and 
attention  make  them  still  more  beautiful.  The  extreme 
cleanliness  in  which  they  are  kept,  their  healthy,  regu- 
lar, and  abundant  food,  the  invariable  mildness  and 
placability  of  their  parents,  and  the  total  absence  of  un- 
pleasing  objects,  all  contribute  to  render  them  serene  in 
countenance  and  healthy  in  body.  If  in  England  the 
quadrupeds  have  laws  for  their  protection,  and  orators  to 
speak  for  them  in  parliament,  how  much  care  and  ten- 
derness must  be  the  portion  of  the  children !  They  are 
washed  two  or  three  times  a  day ;  every  day  they  change 
their  clothes  at  least  once,  and  their  hair  is  combed 
twice.  Who  ever  saw  more  radiant  heads  than  those  of 
the  English  babies  ?  They  are  golden  heads.  Elegance 
is  not  a  vanity  in  them,  it  is  a  habit.  I  never  heard  a 
mother  praising  a  new  dress  to  her  son,  or  promising  a 
new  cap  as  a  reward.  Hence  I  have  never  seen  a  boy 
proud  of  himself  on  account  of  his  dress,  or  pointing  with 
vanity  to  his  shoes.  Their  food  is  simple, — milk,  pre- 
served fruits,  bread  and  butter,  and  fresh  meat,  which  is 
never  allowanced  out  to  them.  They  sit  at  table  like 


IN  ENGLAND.  141 

others.  I  have  been  present  many  times  where  only 
children  were  dining  together :  they  carve,  help  them- 
selves, behave  orderly,  and  acquire  the  same  demeanour 
and  the  same  ease  and  polish  of  manner  as  adults,  with- 
out trouble,  scolding,  or  tears.  The  large  English  loaves, 
piles  of  potatoes,  and  mountains  of  meat,  seem  made  on 
purpose  to  prevent  greediness,  and  to  satiate  little  glut- 
tons with  the  sight  of  them  alone.  All  this  abundance 
leaves  no  room  for  quarrelling  and  disputing.  The  children 
abstain  from  wine,  and,  until  ten  or  twelve,  even  from  tea 
and  coffee.  The  having  no  wine  is  not  felt  as  privation, 
because  they  see  their  mothers  and  sisters  dispense  with 
it  voluntarily  every  day :  but  certainly  when  they  grow 
up  they  repay  themselves  for  it  with  usury. 

Beautiful  as  are  the  English  children,  they  are  still 
more  happy;  they  are  neither  slaves  nor  tyrants, — hence 
neither  indolent  nor  querulous.  As  I  had  never  heard 
long  lamentations  and  fits  of  crying  in  genteel  houses,  I 
wished  to  ascertain  if  this  were  an  advantage  peculiar  to 
the  respectable  classes,  and  for  that  purpose  traversed 
the  meanest  and  dirtiest  streets,  and  visited  the  poorest 
and  most  wretched  habitations  of  the  city,  yet  I  found 
every  where,  that  the  children,  not  treated  with  tyranny 
or  contempt,  not  irritated,  and,  above  all,  never  mocked, 
jeered,  or  laughed  at,  passed 

"  Their  tender  days  of  youth, 
Joyful  and  pleasant."  Tasso. 

How  often  have  I  compassionated  the  fate  of  my  coun- 
trymen, who,  tormented,  irritated,  tortured  by  the  laws 
and  the  government,  yielding  to  an  invincible  instinct  of 
human  nature,  break  out  and  revenge  themselves  on  the 
weak  within  their  power,  becoming  in  their  turn  the 
tyrants  of  their  families !  Here  the  father  does  not  inter- 


142  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

fere  at  all  in  the  education  of  his  sons :  he  is  absorbed  in 
business,  and  abandons  them  therefore  to  the  care  of  the 
mother,  who  very  seldom  leaves  home,  and  executes  this 
sacred  duty  with  a  sweet  and  constant  equanimity.  Pun- 
ishment is  excluded  from  domestic  education,  as  well  as 
reward,  the  stimulus  of  rivalry.  The  children  have  not 
such  an  abhorrence  of  reading,  because,  always  desirous 
of  imitating,  and  always  seeing  the  table  covered  with 
books,  and  their  elders  reading,  at  least,  the  immeasur- 
able newspaper,  or  some  new  novel  of  the  deluge,  they 
also  willingly  read  some  little  book  of  their  own  library. 
The  number  of  books  composed  within  the  last  forty 
years  in  England,  for  the  instruction  of  the  youth  of 
both  sexes,  is  immense.  I  would  give  a  list  of  some  of 
them,  which  might  be  translated  and  adopted  with  ad- 
vantage by  other  nations,  at  the  foot  of  the  page,  but  that 
the  catalogue  would  take  up  too  much  space. 

Order  and  the  distribution  of  time  in  a  family  make 
every  thing  easy.  An  inflexible  order  once  established, 
it  becomes  like  a  law  of  nature,  which  every  one  obeys 
without  thinking  of  opposition.  When  the  day  is  divided 
into  stated  portions,  there  is  no  need  of  exhortation  or 
reprimand, — every  one  submits  without  complaint  to  his 
duty,  as  he  submits  to  the  vicissitudes  of  day  and  night. 
In  this  respect  the  English  day  is  modelled  on  the  celes- 
tial system  ;  the  family  rises,  breakfasts,  dines,  &c., 
always  at  the  same  minute.  It  is  a  planet  which  pro- 
ceeds in  its  orbit  without  need  of  an  exterior  impulse. 
The  taciturnity  and  respectful  awe  of  the  servants  also 
prevent  them  from  communicating  their  passions  or 
vices  to  the  children. 

Three  things  struck  me  above  all  the  rest  in  English 
education :  the  respect  which  the  parents  show  to  their 
children;  their  care  not  to  foment  anger  and  resentment, 


IN  ENGLAND.  143 

and  the  bodily  exercises  by  which  the  waste  of  strength 
caused  by  those  of  the  mind  is  compensated. 

The  respect  of  the  father  towards  his  sons  begins 
early,  and  never  ceases.  This  concession  establishes  the 
right  of  reciprocity  in  favour  of  the  father, — an  expres- 
sion of  contumely  he  never  suffers  to  fall  from  his  lips  : 
the  honour  of  the  son  must  go  into  society  inviolate, — 
and  when  it  is  inviolate,  the  courage  to  defend  it  is  al- 
ways in  existence.  I  do  not  here  speak  of  the  mothers, 
because  they  can  do  as  they  please, — theirs  is  always 
lovers'  anger.  When  he  receives  letters,  unless  they  are 
on  business,  the  father  often  reads  them  aloud,  or  passes 
them  to  all  the  family.  He  generally  avoids  making  use 
of  nicknames,  for  there  are  some  diminutives  which 
seem  at  least  to  imply  a  diminutiveness  of  merit.  They 
are  rather  inclined  to  fall  into  the  opposite  affectation,  of 
calling  the  son  by  the  family  name, — 11  signoie  Tizio^ — 
for  the  same  reason  which  made  Madame  de  Sotenville 
wish  George  Dandin  to  call  his  wife  not  "  My  wife,"  but 
"  Madame  Dandin."  One  English  gentleman,  a  friend 
of  mine,  listened  with  attention  and  interest  to  a  course 
of  lectures  on  hydrostatics,  delivered  by  his  son  before  a 
public  auditory :  another,  who  had  himself  taught  his 
daughter  Latin,  took  lessons  in  Italian  in  her  presence, 
after  they  had  breakfasted  together.  Even  in  the  uni- 
versities, the  students  are  always  treated  as  equals  by 
their  instructers,  and  esteemed  and  received  as  men. 
The  result  of  this  most  rational  etiquette  is,  that  the 
Englishman  (not  born,  perhaps,  with  faculties  so  ready 
as  those  of  an  Italian)  becomes  a  man  much  sooner. 
They  do  not  dazzle  with  brilliant  sayings,  they  are  never 
prodigal  of  wit,  but  they  are  always  sensible,  and  never 
talk  sheer  nonsense.  They  cannot  turn  a  sonnet,  but 
they  can  transact  business.  The  English  nation  has 
made  time  a  species  of  capital, — so  that  the  life  of  a  man 


144  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

is  the  more  productive  the  sooner  he  begins  to  make 
returns. 

Those  who  admire  as  well  as  those  who  ridicule  the 
coldness  of  the  English,  believe  that  it  is  the  effect  of  cli- 
mate and  temperament.  It  is  often  said  that  they  have 
no  blood  in  their  veins.  But  had  they  no  blood  in  their 
veins  when  they  spilt  so  much  in  the  civil  wars  of  the 
red  and  white  roses? — when,  under  the  reign  of  Mary, 
they  persecuted  and  cruelly  used  so  many  thousands  of 
their  fellow  citizens  for  their  religious  opinions? — and 
when,  in  the  war  between  the  Parliament  and  Charles 
the  First,  they  continued  for  years  slaughtering  each 
other,  on  the  scaffold  or  the  field  ?  If  the  English  of  our 
day  are  so  tranquil,  and  so  cold  that  they  seem  to  us  men 
of  ice,  it  is,  perhaps,  because  they  have  repented  of  their 
ancient  follies ;  perhaps  because  they  have  no  occasion 
for  heat ;  but,  most  probably  of  all,  because  their  educa- 
tion represses  in  them  those  will-o'-the-wisp  fires  that  we 
always  take  to  be  the  signs  of  a  volcano,  and  so  often  de- 
ceive us.  The  truth  is,  that  in  their  education  the  soul 
is  never  disturbed  by  the  passions, — "  winds  adverse  to 
serenity  of  life ;"  there  exists  not  amongst  them  that  cus- 
tom of  mockery  and  satire  in  families,  which  so  highly 
exasperates  the  minds  of  children.  The  mother  avoids 
all  occasions  of  exciting  the  wrath  of  her  children;  if 
they  ever  kindle  into  rage  and  bend  their  brows,  she 
soon  disarms  them  with  a  caress. 

To  be  master  of  oneself — "  to  keep  the  temper,*'  is  so 
essential  a  law  of  education,  that  it  almost  appears  to  be 
the  fundamental  law  of  the  state.  It  is  not  allowed  to  "  go 
off  the  hinges"  (as  the  Tuscans  have  it),  either  when  in 
contact  with  the  servants  or  the  dirtiest  scoundrel  in  ex- 
istence. A  strong  resentment,  expressed  in  decorous 
terms,  is  the  mark  of  the  gentleman  in  England.  In 
the  parliament  itself,  those  speakers  who  cannot  restrain 


IN  ENGLAND.  145 

themselves  are  generally  censured,  and  deemed  incapa- 
ble of  the  management  of  great  affairs.  A  duel  entered 
into  precipitately  is  thought  as  ignominious  as  to  avoid 
one  in  a  cowardly  manner.  Mr.  Hamilton  Rowan  (fa- 
ther of  Commodore  Rowan),  lately,  thought  himself  in- 
jured by  some  expressions  of  a  speech  delivered  in  par- 
liament, and,  although  loaded  with  the  weight  of  seventy- 
five  years,  immediately  set  out  from  Dublin  to  demand 
an  explanation  from  the  orator  in  London.  Notes  were 
exchanged,  and  each  party  selected  a  friend  to  act  for 
him  in  the  aifair.  Mr.  Rowan  did  not  know  how  to  put 
up  with  the  insult,  nor  how  to  draw  back  with  propriety. 
At  last  he  submitted  the  case  to  an  ex-judge,  a  man  de- 
licate in  affairs  of  honour.  As  soon  as  this  referee  had 
pronounced  that  if  he  insisted  on  more  he  would  be  in 
the  wrong,  and  forfeit  the  esteem  of  his  friends,  the 
courageous  old  man  returned  to  Dublin,  to  continue  his 
labours  in  the  fine  arts.  If  the  offence  really  exists,  a 
duel  becomes  the  legitimate  and  inevitable  resource ; 
this  was  the  case  many  years  ago,  when  the  Duke  of 
York,  the  second  son  of  the  king,  addressed  a  too  sting- 
ing reproof  to  a  colonel  of  the  Guards  at  a  review.  The 
colonel,  before  demanding  satisfaction  of  the  duke,  asked 
his  friends  if  they  thought  him  injured  ;  they  replied  in 
the  affirmative,  the  challenge  was  sent,  and  the  duel 
took  place. 

English  education  is  not  like  the  system  of  Pythago- 
ras, who,  by  five  years  of  constant  silence  and  restric- 
tion to  vegetable  food,  made  his  disciples  so  many  monks 
of  La  Trappe.  Neither  does  it  resemble  stoicism,  ac- 
cording to  which  a  man  should  continue  imperturbable  as 
a  statue  though  the  world  should  be  falling  to  pieces 
around  him.  English  education  is  an  English  system, 
like  no  other,  born  in  England,  produced  by  a  variety  of 
circumstances,  partly  perhaps  from  their  being  at  one 
13 


146  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

and  the  same  time  a  warlike  and  a  commercial  nation, 
which  tend  to  repress  the  passions  on  frivolous  occasions, 
and  to  give  them  the  rein  on  those  of  importance.  In 
family  matters,  in  social  intercourse,  in  everyday  dis- 
cussions, it  demands  calmness,  coolness,  deliberation. 
In  great  enterprises,  in  war,  in  the  perils  of  the  country, 
it  calls  for  courage  and  enthusiasm.  That  same  Eng- 
lishman who  hardly  returns  your  salute,  and  who  sits  at 
table  with  you  like  a  Chinese  pagoda,  would,  did  you 
see  him  in  the  day  of  battle,  or  in  the  heat  of  a  contest- 
ed election,  give  himself  up  to  unbounded  enthusiasm. 
Where  is  the  enterprise  by  which  glory  may  be  gained 
that  the  Englishman  does  not  engage  in  heart  and  soul? 
Mungo  Park  plunges  alone  into  the  deserts  of  Africa  ;  un- 
intimidated  by  the  mistake  of  his  first  journey,  he  risks 
a  second, — and  perishes.  Captain  Cochrane  returns  on  foot 
from  Kamtschatka  to  St.  Petersburg!!,  a  distance  of  six 
thousand  miles,  alone  and  unfriended,  as  if  it  had  been  a  walk 
in  Hyde  Park  ;  he  goes  to  America  to  take  another  stroll, 
across  the  Cordilleras, — and  there  he  dies.  Lord  Byron 
abandons  the  sweet  converse  of  the  Muses,  the  yet  dearer 
smiles  of  the  Italian  fair,  to  die  on  a  foreign  soil,  in  the 
defence  of  the  freedom  of  a  foreign  land.  Lord  Coch- 
rane, after  having  fought  both  in  the  Atlantic  and  the  Pa- 
cific for  the  independence  of  the  new  states  of  America, 
flies  to  the  Archipelago  to  share  the  glory  of  a  handful 
of  Greeks,  who  for  six  years  had  been  struggling  with 
the  monstrous  tyranny  that  oppressed  them.  Read  the 
life  of  Sir  Robert  Wilson,  and  you  will  see  how  many 
perils  he  has  voluntarily  incurred,  always  in  favour  of 
the  oppressed,  whether  kings  (in  the  end  ungrateful)  or 
nations  (too  little  grateful)  or  individuals  (most  grateful 
of  all) ;  very  well,  any  of  these  men,  who  showed,  in 
these  cases,  an  enthusiasm  worthy  of  a  knight-errant, 


IN  ENGLAND.  147 

would  have  disdained,  in  social  life,  to  have  been  guilty 
of  an  act  of  impatience,  even  towards  a  servant. 

It  would  seem  as  if  Rousseau,  who  once  lived  for 
some  time  among  the  English,  took  from  them  the 
principal  ideas  of  the  physical  education  of  his  Emilius. 
The  gymnastics  of  the  English  are  almost  all  applied  to 
practical  uses.  In  the  same  manner  that  they  do  not 
study  the  laws  of  nations,  nor  the  lapidary  style,  because 
they  believe  them  useless  acquisitions,  they  do  not  learn 
fencing,  nor  the  grand  leap,  nor  the  somersets  of  clowns, 
nor  the  caperings  of  ballet  dancers ; — but  they  learn,  in- 
stead, to  ride  on  horseback  at  full  gallop,  to  leap  hedges 
and  ditches,  to  swim,  to  leap  with  the  feet  together,  and 
to  climb  trees.  We  learn  with  great  labour  the  art  of 
fencing,  so  useless,  except  to  a  man  who  wants  to  kill 
or  be  killed  according  to  rule, — in  war  even  it  is  of  lit- 
tle advantage.  The  English,  instead,  learn  the  art  of 
boxing,  which  (laugh  as  you  will)  is  useful  in  every  mo- 
ment of  life.  We  are  dexterous  at  billiards,  a  dexterity 
which  admits  of  no  other  application,  like,  in  some  de- 
gree, the  Indian  game  at  ball.  The  English,  instead, 
from  infancy  even  to  old  age,  delight  to  play  at  cricket, 
a  game  in  the  open  air,  which  requires  strength,  dexterity, 
quickness,  and  some  little  intrepidity,  to  await  without 
flinching  the  heavy  ball  which  one  of  the  players 
throws  with  all  his  force  at  some  wooden  stakes,  and 
another  beats  back  with  a  kind  of  club.  Fox-hunting, 
shooting,  horse-racing,  swimming,  rowing,  driving, 
cricket,  skating,  are  exercises  which  keep  almost  all 
ages  in  perpetual  motion.  Like  the  Greeks,  the  English 
think  gymnastics  unbecoming  to  no  age  whatever,  and 
to  no  profession.  In  hunting,  at  cricket,  and  at  skating, 
I  have  often  found  myself  in  company  with  boys,  with 
clergymen,  and  men  advanced  in  years,  all  mixed  toge- 
ther. In  all  these  exercises,  the  object  is  not  to  beautify, 


148  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

but  to  fortify,  to  steel,  as  they  call  it,  the  body.  There 
are  few  Tartars  who  would  be  able  to  support  the  fatigue, 
which  is  sometimes  borne  with  cheerfulness  by  the 
young-  Englishman  in  a  hard  day's  fox-hunting.  On 
the  first  day  of  the  present  year  there  was  a  hunt  near 
York,  in  which  the  horsemen  in  following  a  very  strong 
and  wary  fox,  rode  fifty-two  miles  in  six  hours  and  a 
half,  without  a  check  except  for  about  ten  minutes. 

Nobody  can  ever  frighten  the  boys  with  the  idea  of 
danger.  The  Spartans  used  to  say,  when  they  threw  a 
weak  born  infant  over  the  cliff,  that  it  was  better  a 
child  should  die,  than  a  citizen  should  grow  up  useless 
to  his  country.  When  the  English  let  their  children 
slide  on  thinly  frozen  rivers,  it  seems  as  if  they  thought, 
— and  wisely  too, — that  it  is  better  to  run  the  risk  of 
losing  a  son,  than  have  him  timid  and  pusillanimous  all 
his  life  long.  Not  softened  then  by  immoderate  caresses, 
nor  terrified  by  scowling  eyebrows  or  terrible  menaces, 
the  English  boy  is  free  in  his  movements ; — he  sits  on 
the  ground  or  jumps  to  his  feet  at  his  own  will ;  he  lies 
on  the  sofa  or  the  grass  as  he  pleases :  provided  only  he 
do  not  disturb  others,  he  may  gratify  any  innocent  ca- 
price of  his  own.  In  this  way  he  is  continually  making 
trials  of  himself,  becomes  accustomed  to  observe  and 
judge,  compares  his  means  with  the  difficulties  to  be 
overcome,  sounds  the  depth  of  dangers,  and  acquires  vi- 
gour, and  confidence  in  his  own  strength.  At  the  age 
of  six  or  seven,  the  child  is  already  able  to  go  alone  to 
school  through  the  crowded  streets  of  London,  amidst 
that  stupendous  medley  of  carts,  carriages,  and  horses. 
It  is  true,  indeed,  that  the  inviolable  and  unviolated  foot- 
ways of  the  English  cities  are  a  guide  and  protection 
for  boys ;  but,  giving  due  weight  to  this,  the  instances  of 
their  being  run  over  or  injured  by  carriages  are  so  very 
rare,  that  they  should  not  be  defrauded  of  the  merit  of 


IN  ENGLAND.  149 

their  precious  good  sense.  The  fear  natural  to  man  is 
itself  a  sufficient  Mentor  against  danger,  without  the 
need  of  increasing  it  by  an  excess  of  caution.  I  remem- 
ber (and  with  a  sigh  I  remember  it)  having  seen  on  the 
lake  of  Como  the  children  of  the  fishermen  and  the 
mountaineers,  both  equally  abandoned  to  their  own 
care,  frolic  on  the  banks  of  the  lake,  entrust  themselve  s 
in  little  boats  to  the  wanton  waves,  play  on  the  very 
edge  of  deep  wells,  climb  up  precipices,  and  hang  like 
wild  goats  from  the  lofty  rocks,  without  ever  falling,  or 
doing  themselves  the  least  injury  :  and  we  must  confess 
that  the  population  of  our  lakes  are  the  most  richly  en- 
dowed with  courage  and  with  talent. 

All  the  boys  in  the  island  can  ride,  because  they  are 
accustomed  to  it  from  the  tenderest  age.  No  one  ac- 
companies them ; — they  go,  they  rove,  they  wander  by 
themselves ;  they  treat  their  pony  as  a  companion,  they 
feed  him  and  clean  him  themselves,  they  let  him  take  his 
needful  rest,  they  do  not  abuse  his  docility,  because  he  is 
the  comrade  of  their  adventures.  On  this  head,  Miss 
Edgeworth's  pretty  little  novel  of  "  Lightfoot "  may  be 
consulted  with  advantage. 

Liberty  is  the  mistress  of  every  thing  in  England.  In 
imitation  of  the  government,  which  imposes  as  few  laws 
as  it  can,  there  are  in  every  thing  but  few  and  indispen- 
sable restrictions.  The  trees  are  not  maimed,  or  contort- 
ed, or  sheared,  but  grow  gnarled  and  branchy  at  their 
will,  in  the  parks  and  the  fields.  The  houses  are  not 
architecturised  and  symmetrised  out  of  all  bounds,  at  the 
expense  of  internal  convenience,  but  are  sometimes  cor- 
pulent, and  sometimes  awry,  but  always  well  divided  and 
convenient  within.  The  horses  are  not  irritated  or  crip- 
pled by  useless  exercises  and  mimic  movements,  but  are 
strong,  sinewy,  and  the  swiftest  of  the  swift.  Here,  in 
short,  education  is  rather  a  pattern,  a  guide,  than  a  vio- 
13* 


150  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

lent  compression.  Of  all  civilised  people,  the  English  are 
the  least  removed  from  nature.  I  am  not,  however,  a 
blind  admirer  of  every  thing  done  in  this  country.  There 
are  two  things  in  the  present  system  of  education  I  can- 
not approve. 

First,  the  excess  of  reading.  When  Rousseau  wrote 
his  Emilius,  there  was  much  less  reading  in  England, — 
perhaps  too  little  :  now  there  is  too  much.  There  is  now 
such  an  inundation  of  poetry,  novels,  romances,  and  lite- 
rary journals,  that  many  minds  must  be  stifled  under  it. 
At  three  years  of  age,  intellectual  education  commences : 
at  the  infant  schools,  the  baby  has  already  before  his  eyes 
the  elements  of  several  sciences.  Then  come  fable  and 
little  histories ;  then  Latin,  Greek,  and  history,  mingled 
with  voyages  and  travels,  romances  and  magazines  with- 
out end.  The  mind  has  no  time  to  digest  this  incessant 
food ; — a  new  novel  drives  from  the  recollection  that  of 
the  preceding  week,  as  a  new  wave  presses  upon  and  de- 
stroys its  predecessor.  Several  times  I  chanced  to  ask 
some  youth  the  plot  of  a  romance  he  had  read  a  few 
months  before,— he  had  no  more  than  a  slight  indistinct 
recollection  of  it,  as  one  has  of  a  dream.  A  more  cer- 
tain inconvenience  of  this  ceaseless  reading  is  weakness 
of  sight,  which  is  very  common  in  England.  I  cannot 
prove  that  my  judgment  on  the  subject  is  correct,  because 
English  education,  in  all  its  parts,  especially  the  intellec- 
tual, underwent  a  thorough  alteration  about  twenty  years 
ago,  and  the  effects  of  this  assiduous  and  inordinate  read- 
ing have  not  yet  had  time  to  show  themselves.  Twenty 
years  more  must  elapse  before  it  can  be  determined  with 
certainty,  whether,  in  respect  to  solidity  of  judgment, 
and  vigour  of  body,  there  has  been  gain  or  loss. 

My  second  objection  is  to  the  stays  worn  by  the  ladies. 
After  having  read  the  eloquent  reprobation  of  this  de- 
structive breastwork  in  Beccaria's  Lessons  of  Political 


IN  ENGLAND.  151 

Economy,  after  hearing  the  opinions  of  the  Italian  phy- 
sicians who  succeeded  in  banishing  it  from  the  Orphan 
Schools,  after  having  listened  a  thousand  times  to  the 
just  remarks  of  the  good  Italian  mothers  on  the  dreadful 
consequences  of  this  barbarous  ligature,  I  little  expected 
to  find  it  still  in  use  in  sober  and  sensible  England.  It 
is  but  too  true.  The  English  ladies  are  imprisoned  in 
stays,  and  in  stays  so  stiff,  that  to  embrace  them  is  like 
embracing  an  oak.  They  stand  as  bolt  upright  in  this 
cuirass,  as  our  mulberry  trees  in  the  wooden  fences  put 
round  them,  when  they  are  still  tender.  Many  English 
ladies,  to  whom  I  hinted  my  surprise,  told  me  that  they 
believed  one  of  the  causes  of  the  many  consumptive  ma- 
ladies to  which  young  Englishwomen  are  subject,  is  the 
use  of  stays,  with  busks  of  bone  or  steel, — and  this  is 
very  likely  the  case.  I  will  confine  myself  to  observing 
further,  that  this  cuirass  renders  them  as  stiff  and  unbend- 
ing as  a  hedge-stake,  while  our  ladies  are  as  soft  and 
flexible  as  a  silken  cord. 

Now  then  to  proceed  in  my  reflections.  The  physical 
education  of  the  present  day  is,  with  very  little  variation, 
the  same  as  that  of  the  past.  It  is  perhaps  more  the 
effect  of  accident  than  system,  unlike  that  of  Lycurgus 
and  those  of  Pestalozzi  and  Fellenberg  in  our  time.  It 
is  the  effect  of  the  climate,  of  the  commercial  institutions, 
and  the  maritime  situation  of  England,  and  the  ancient 
custom  of  its  inhabitants.  Moral  education,  on  the  other 
hand,  has  undergone  extensive  changes  since  Locke  and 
Lord  Chesterfield  wrote  upon  the  subject,  and  these 
changes  too  are  the  effect  of  the  reflection  and  recom- 
mendation of  men  of  learning  and  wisdom. 

Two  men,  of  most  extraordinary  patience  and  perse- 
verance, Mr.  Lancaster  and  Dr.  Boll,  made  it  the  business 
of  their  lives  to  diffuse  instruction  universally  among  the 
lower  classes.  Without  here  discussing  the  merits  of 


152  THE    ITALIAN    EXILE 

Rousseau's  Emilius,  it  is  certainly  a  book  for  the  education 
of  an  individual,  not  a  multitude.  The  Emiliari  system 
might  make  one  hero  carpenter,  but  not  a  whole  nation 
of  carpenter  heroes.  A  nation  calls  for  easy  methods, 
suited  more  for  a  multitude  than  an  individual;  in  this 
point  of  view,  Bell  and  Lancaster  were  of  greater  use 
to  society  than  Rousseau. 

Many  of  the  most  illustrious  members  of  parliament, 
at  the  same  time  that  they  watch  the  balance  of  Europe, 
the  wars  of  the  Indies,  and  the  commerce  of  the  world, 
are  occupied  also  in  founding  infant  schools  and  mecha- 
nics' institutions, — in  the  composition  and^diffusion  of  a 
popular  encyclopaedia.  Many  of  the  best  poets  did  not 
disdain  to  lower  their  flight,  and  adapt  their  productions 
to  the  fancy  and  capacity  of  children,  as  Gay,  Words- 
worth, Mrs.  Barbauld,  and  others;  and  many  prose 
authors  have  likewise  contributed  to  enrich  the  library 
of  the  young,  as  Paley,  Aikin,  Watts,  Blair,  Priestley, 
Baldwin,  &c. 

But  in  recent  times  the  fair  sex  has  supplied  the  juve- 
nile library  with  numbers  of  useful  works.  I  do  not  al- 
lude to  Lady  Morgan,  nor  Lady  Dacre,  nor  Lady  Char- 
lotte Bury,  nor  Mrs.  Radcliffe,  nor  any  of  the  other  Eng- 
lish ladies  who  have  favoured  the  world  of  letters  with 
either  poem  or  romance ;  I  speak,  of  those  who,  without 
departing  from  the  ordinary  sphere  of  the  attributes  of 
their  sex,  have  desired  to  contribute  to  the  ornamenting 
and  developement  of  the  minds  of  those  beings  whose 
lives  are  made  and  modified  by  them  up  to  the  age  of 
twelve  or  fourteen  years.  Even  those  severe  and  invidi- 
ous censors  who  would  condemn  the  fair  sex  to  the  needle 
and  the  distaff,  cannot  deny  that  woman,  who  rears  and 
suckles  the  child,  who  teaches  him  to  run  alone,  to  stam- 
mer out  words  and  sentences,  and  finally  to  read  and 
write,  ought  best  to  know  the  progress  of  the  human 


IN  ENGLAND.  153 

mind,  and  must  have,  on  this  first  period  of  existence, 
more  experience  than  a  Bacon  or  a  Plato.  The  English, 
who  read  more  than  any  other  nation,  and  admire  highly 
the  originality  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  writers,  are  not 
to  be  led  astray  by  prejudices  or  customary  modes  of 
thinking  no  longer  adapted  to  our  situation,  but  reward 
with  applause  and  gratitude  those  ladies  who,  instead  of 
wasting  their  time  at  whist,  in  feminine  fripperies,  or  in 
knitting  a  pair  of  stockings  that  might  be  bought  at  a 
shop  for  half  the  cost,  have  cultivated  their  minds  suffi- 
ciently to  enable  them  to  compose  tales  or  poetry,  or  ele- 
mentary scientific  works,  for  the  use  of  youth.  Where 
are  the  heads  of  a  family  in  the  three  kingdoms  of  Great 
Britain,  who  do  not  speak  with  grateful  respect  of  Miss 
Eedgeworth,  as  the  instructress  of  their  children  ? 


154  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 


ISOLATED  OBSERVATIONS. 


It  is  here  necessary  that  I  should  say  a  few  words  on 
the  English  novels  which  are  now  printed  in  shoals,  and 
read  by  every  body,  not  excepting  either  the  king  or  the 
lord  chancellor.*  Among  us,  and  over  almost  all  the 
continent,  there  is  a  feeling  against  novels,  almost  amount- 
ing to  horror:  how  happens  it  then  that  the  English, 
who  sets  so  high  a  value  on  their  intellect  and  morals, 
should  put  themselves  in  such  mortal  hazard  of  losing 
both  ?  There  appear  to  me  to  be  two  strong  reasons  in 
favour  of  the  English  novels.  Far  from  sapping  and  un- 
dermining the  imagination  and  the  heart,  none  of  the  in- 
finity of  novels  now  published,  venture  even  to  agitate 
them,  or  at  most  only  to  go  so  far  as  to  gently  touch  them. 
In  all  of  them  there  is  not  a  page  in  the  style  of  Faublas, 
or  the  Liaisons  Dangereuses,  the  free  novels  of  Boccac- 
cio, or  the  still  freer  of  Abbate  Casti :  in  these  respects, 
the  modern  novels  are  even  more  unexceptionable  than 
the  English  novels  of  the  last  century,  such  as  Clarissa, 

*  The  king  lately  sent  a  handsome  present  to  'he  authoress  of  a 
novel  called  "Flirtation;"  and  when  a  judge  or  a  counsellor  tra- 
vels, his  wife  or  daughter  never  fails  to  put  into  his  carriage  the  last 
new  novel,  by  way  of  giving  him  a  companion  for  his  journey 
more  agreeable  than  a  Blackstone. 


IN  ENGLAND.  155 

% 

Tom  Jones,  Joseph  Andrews,  the  first  part  of  Pamela, 
and  Roderick  Random  ;  which  neither  were  nor  are  read 
commonly,  at  least  by  the  young-.  There  are  no  novels 
of  the  present  day  that  steep  the  soul  in  sentiment,  like 
the  Nouvelle  Eloise  of  Rousseau,  which  it  is  impossible 
to  read  without  handkerchief  in  hand,  and  "  sighing  like 
furnace;"  nor,  finally,  in  reading  any  of  them,  is  there 
any  risk  of  becoming  such  goggle-eyed,  maggot-headed, 
asthmatic  sinners  as  the  German  romance  of  Werter,  and 
its  double,  Jacopo  Ortis,  would  tend  to  make  us.  The 
modern  English  novels  (till  now  at  least)  have  been  only 
innocent  pictures  of  the  manners,  customs,  and  prejudi- 
ces, of  the  many  classes,  sects,  and  sets,  and  individual 
originals,  that  are  to  be  met  with  in  England  more  than 
elsewhere,  from  the  liberty  which  leaves  a  latitude  and  a 
vent  for  the  character  of  every  one.  They  are  rather 
comedies  in  three  or  four  volumes  (instead  of  three  acts,) 
than  collections  of  adventures,  made  "thick  and  slab" 
with  martyrising  passions.  Speaking  of  the  English 
novels,  an  American  writer  exclaims,  "  Thrice  blest  be 
he  who  first  imagined  those  pleasant  fictions  which  so 
sweetly  beguile  the  weight  of  weariness,  cheer  up  the 
drooping  spirits  with  a  *  cup  that  cheers,  but  not  ine- 
briates J  lighten  the  horrors  of  a  rainy  day,  break  the  te- 
dium of  a  long  winter's  evening,  and  impart  some  life  and 
vigour  to  the  dullest  of  all  human  formalities — a  family 
conversation." 

Another  consideration  in  favour  of  these  novels  is, 
that  if  there  were  none,  many  people  would  not  read  at 
all :  they  are  like  newspapers,  the  reading  of  those  who 
do  not  read.  Most  people  read  only  to  pass  away  the 
time.  Is  it  not  better,  then,  to  read  an  amusing  novel, 
written  in  good  language,  than  to  go  stalking  about 
with  the  hands  crossed  behind,  in  the  piazza  of  St. 
Mark  ?  or  yawning  in  a  coffee-room,  disputing  on  the 


156  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

merit  of  opera  dancers  and  prima  donnas,  killing-,  mean- 
while, the  flies  that  are  stinging-  the  hands  and  face  ?  or 
planting-  oneself  in  the  village  apothecary's  shop,  to  hold 
sweet  converse  amidst  the  effluvia  of  cataplasms,  about 
the  loves  of  the  curate  and  his  servant  maid  ? 


List  of  English  authoresses  and  their  works,  compiled  at 
my  request  by  some  very  obliging  young  ladies. 

Those  having  this  mark  *  have  been  republished  in  America. 

MARIA  EDGEWORTH,  AN  IRISH  LADY. — *Early  Lessons, 
Continuation  of  Early  Lessons,  ^Parents'  Assistant, 
^Popular  Tales,  *Tales  of  Fashionable  Life,  *Patron- 
age,  ^Belinda,  *Readings  in  Poetry,  ^Practical  Educa- 
tion. 

MRS.  BARBAULD,  OF  LONDON. — *Early  Lessons,  *Hymns 
in  Prose  for  Children,  *Part  of  Evenings  at  Home. 

MRS.  PRISCILLA  WAKEFIELD. — *Mental  Improvement, 
*  Juvenile  Travellers,  *Family  Tour  through  the 
British  Empire,  Travels  in  North  America,  *Instinct 
Displayed,  ^Sketches  of  Human  Manners. 

MRS.  MARIA  HACK. — Winter  Evenings,  *Harry  Beaufoy, 
Grecian  Stories,  Stories  from  English  History. 

MRS.  CAPPE,  OF  YORK. — Memoirs  of  Herself. 

MRS.  HOFLAND. — *Son  of  a  Genius,  *Blind  Farmer, 
*Good  Grandmother,  *The  Officer's  Widow,  *The 
Clergyman's  Widow,  *The  Merchant's  Widow. 

Miss  JANE  TAYLOR,  OF  ONGAR. — ^Original  Poems,  *Sun- 
day-School  Hymns,  *Hymns  for  Infant  Minds,  *Dis- 
play,  a  Tale. 


IN  ENGLAND.  157 

Miss  AIKIN,  OP  LONDON. — *Juvenile  Correspondence, 
*Selection  of  Poetry,  Essays  and  Poems,  Female 
Speaker. 

MRS.  HANNAH  MORE,  NEAR  BRISTOL. — *On  Education, 
*Sacred  Dramas,  ^Practical  Piety,  *Spirit  of  Prayer, 
*Tracts. 

Miss  HARRIET  MARTINEAU,  OF  NORWICH. — Devotional 
Exercises,  Christmas  Day,  or,  The  Friends. 

MRS.  ELIZABETH  HAMILTON,  OF  EDINBURGH. — ^Letters  on 
Education,  *Memoirs  of  Agrippina,  *The  Cottagers  of 
Glenburnie. 

MRS.  MARCET,  OF  LONDON. — ^Conversations  on  Chemis- 
try, Conversations  on  Natural  Philosophy,  *Conver- 
sations  on  Political  Economy. 

MRS.  TRIMMER. — ^Fabulous  Histories,  ^Introduction  to 
the  Knowledge  of  Nature,  ^Scripture  Histories. 

AN  ANONYMOUS  LADY.— *Memoirs  of  Lady  Rachel  Rus- 
sell. 


14 


1  58  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 


A  COUNTRY  WAKE. 


Although  Catholicism  has  been  renounced  in  England 
for  three  centuries,  some  customs,  prejudices,  and  festi- 
vals, that  the  church  of  Rome  or  the  friars  introduced, 
are  nevertheless  not  yet  extirpated.  In  the  same  manner, 
many  of  the  rites  and  ceremonies  of  Paganism  still  sub- 
sisted, even  after  the  Christian  religion  had  planted  its 
standard  on  its  ruins.  To  destroy  a  moral  edifice,  of 
whatever  kind,  and  however  absurd  it  may  be,  is  much 
more  difficult  than  to  annihilate  works  entirely  con- 
structed by  the  hand  of  man.  The  revolutions  of  em- 
pires, of  governments,  of  religions,  and  of  languages, 
supply  illustrations  of  this  position  in  abundance ;  but, 
without  wandering  too  far,  without  ever  quitting  England, 
I  need  only  proceed  to  say,  that  I  have  before  me  a  book 
printed  a  century  ago,  by  a  clergyman  of  Newcastle, 
entitled  "  Antiquitates  Vulgares,"  in  which  this  good 
minister  mentions  all  the  ceremonies,  superstitions,  and 
popular  prejudices,  to  be  extinguished  by  means  of  the 
instruction  of  the  lower  orders.  It  appears  that  at 
that  time  the  lower  orders  of  English  believed  in 
apparitions  that  walked  abroad  in  the  night,  in  ghosts 
that  haunted  the  churchyards,  in  hobgoblins,  witches, 
and  fairies,  in  the  magic  virtues  of  certain  wells  and 
fountains,  in  a  devil  with  cloven  feet,  in  haunted  houses, 
in  the  evil  augury  of  a  hare's  crossing  the  path,  of  a 


IN  ENGLAND.  159 

rook's  cawing,  of  an  owl's  hooting,  and  a  hundred  other 
nonsenses  of  that  sort,  which  the  heroes  of  antiquity  and 
the  knights  of  the  round  table  once  believed  in,  and  our 
nurses  and  children  believe  in  still.  There  is  not  an 
English  poet,  from  Shakspeare  to  Walter  Scott,  who  has 
not  availed  himself  of  these  popular  prejudices,  as  a  my- 
thology or  poetic  machinery,  to  increase  wonder  and 
terror,  the  two  passions  they  handle  most  sublimely. 
But  what  is  beautiful  in  poetry,  is  often  very  different 
in  practice.  Hence  the  good  curate,  Bourne  of  New- 
castle, generously  spurning  the  gain  which  some  of  his 
function  exact  from  similar  bug-bears,  dedicated  his  book 
to  the  municipal  authorities  of  the  town,  and  earnestly 
exhorted  them  to  establish  schools  for  the  people,  as  a 
means  more  efficacious  than  holy  water,  to  send  all  de- 
vilries packing  to  the  devil  again.  His  prayers  were 
heard ;  for  in  the  century  since,  popular  instruction  has 
gone  on  increasing,  dispersing  phantoms  by  its  light, 
and  freeing  houses,  woods,  and  heaths,  from  flying 
dragons  and  dancing  witches.  Let  it  be  well  noted,  that 
instead  of  religious  sentiments  growing  weaker  in  con- 
sequence, it  can  be  proved  that  in  England  they  have 
acquired  strength  by  their  being  purified  from  puerile 
prejudices.  The  atmosphere,  however,  is  not  yet  quite 
clear ;  those  who  read  the  romances  of  Walter  Scott 
(and  who  does  not?)  will  see  that  nocturnal  spectres, 
elves,  and  fairies,  still  maintain  some  dominion  in  the 
mountains  of  Scotland. 

Among  the  feasts  that  the  catholic  religion  observes 
from  precept,  and  that  the  lower  orders  of  the  English 
still  keep  in  some  counties  as  holidays,  is  that  of  Whit- 
suntide. In  Yorkshire,  many  villages,  in  the  week  fol- 
lowing Whit-Sunday,  celebrate  in  turns  a  rural  festival, 
and  I  will  now  relate  how  I  happened  to  find  myself 
present  at  one  of  these. 


160  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

It  was  the  beginning  of  June,  and  sunset,  which  in 
England  is  always  finer  than  sunrise.  There  was 
not  that  mistiness  afloat  which  so  often  obscures  and 
conceals  all  the  beauties  of  the  landscape.  The  heaven 
was  of  a  lovely  azure,  studded  here  and  there  with  fleecy 
clouds  which  only  concealed  now  and  then  the  face  of 
the  sun,  to  make  his  splendour  seem  more  brilliant  and 
more  grateful  when  he  re-appeared  from  behind  them. 
A  fresh  wind  rustled  the  boughs,  and  gave  an  agreeable 
change  and  variety  to  the  surface  of  the  beautiful 
English  meadows.  I  give  these  few  pencil  touches,  that 
it  may  be  perceived  what  a  difference  there  always  is 
between  a  fine  Italian  and  a  fine  English  day,  and  to  be 
able  to  wind  up,  in  all  sincerity  and  frankness,  with  the 
declaration,  that  when  the  sun  in  England  shines  with 
all  his  lustre,  and  with  sufficient  power  to  light  up  all  the 
objects  around  (which  happens  a  very  few  times  in  a 
year,)  England  is  not  only  the  most  beautiful  country  in 
the  world,  but  a  day  of  really  fine  weather  in  England, 
together  with  its  liberty,  is  worth  ten  years  of  life  spent 
under  the  azure  skies  of  enslaved  and  enervated  coun- 
tries : — 

"  A  day,  an  hour  of  virtuous  liberty, 
Is  worth  a  whole  eternity  of  bondage  !" 

Addisorts  Cato. 

Taking  a  stroll  on  the  skirts  of  the  city,  without  any 
fixed  object,  I  perceived  that  a  good  many  persons  were 
taking  their  way  along  a  fine  road,  bordered  with  lofty 
and  branching  trees,  as  well  as  with  a  uniform  hedge, 
well  trimmed,  and  altogether  in  as  complete  order  as 
that  of  an  Italian  garden,  when  cultivated  with  care  and 
good  will.  Such  are  almost  all  the  hedges  which  sur- 
round the  fields  in  England.  The  greater  leisure  of  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  161 

English  country  people,  the  excellence  of  their  cutting- 
implements,  their  care  in  protecting  themselves  from  the 
thorns  with  mittens  and  thick  leather  aprons,  and  their 
love  of  order  and  neatness,  altogether  operate  to  make 
the  commonest  hedges  as  well  kept  as  those  in  the  vicinity 
of  our  greatest  cities.  I  determined  to  follow  the  track, 
and  was  well  content  that  I  had  done  so,  because  this 
string  of  people,  which  resembled  a  swarm  of  ants,  led 
me  to  a  village  called  Heslington,  three  miles  from  York; 
and  one  of  those  festivals  I  have  been  talking  about  was 
celebrating  there.  It  is  a  village  inhabited  entirely  by 
peasantry  and  farmers ;  the  houses,  therefore,  are  almost 
all  built  in  the  same  form,  and  with  the  same  arrange- 
ment. These  village  mansions  are  in  general  covered 
with  a  roof  formed  of  long  straw,  well  bound  together, 
and  so  thick  that  it  not  only  preserves  the  house  from 
rain  and  snow,  but  also  from  the  cold,  and,  in  summer, 
from  excessive  heat.  Thus  this  cottage  roof  is  often 
imitated  by  the  English  in  their  summer  houses  by  the 
seaside,  especially  in  the  pleasant  Isle  of  Wight,  where 
they  for  that  reason  bear  the  name  of  cottages, — a  name 
that  awakens  so  many  sweet  emotions,  when  affluence 
instead  of  poverty  dwells  within.  All  the  windows  are 
glazed;  there  was  not  one  pane  broken  or  wanting 
throughout  the  village.  Seventy  years  ago  paper  held 
the  place  of  glass ;  the  peasant  is  altogether  improved 
with  the  improvement  of  agriculture ;  another  fact  in 
opposition  to  the  discouraging  theory  of  Ortes,  that  the 
wealth  of  a  state  can  never  increase  but  in  appearance, 
in  favour  of  the  few,  and  to  the  injury  of  the  many. 

It  is  most  true,  as  is  asserted  by  some  writers  on  politi- 
cal economy,  that  the  system  of  leases,  and  the  large 
farms  (a  consequence  of  this,  and  of  the  substitution  of 
meadow  for  arable  land),  have  not  only  diminished 
the  agricultural  population  of  England,  in  comparison 
14* 


162  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

with  what  it  might  have  been,  but  have  divided  it  into 
two  classes  :  the  first, — a  small  one,  of  farmers,  and  the 
other,  a  most  numerous  one,  of  labourers,  or  peasants, 
with  no  land  of  their  own,  in  the  service  of  the  farmers. 
It  is,  however,  not  true  that  these  peasants,  although 
merely  the  hired  servants  of  the  farmers,  and  often  as- 
sisted by  the  parish  with  from  two  to  three  shillings  per 
week,  according  to  the  number  of  their  children,  are  poor 
and  wretched.  I  will  venture  to  say,  that  they  are  hap- 
pier than  a  great  portion  of  our  small  farmers.  If  the 
happiness  of  men  is  to  be  estimated  by  their  dress,  food, 
and  lodging,  it  may  be  broadly  said,  that  the  state  of 
these  English  labourers  is  much  better  than  that  of  our 
small  farmers,  who  eat  only  brown  bread  made  of  coarse 
flour,  drink  water,  scarcely  ever  have  meat,  and  in  winter 
warm  themselves  at  fetid  ox-stalls. 

To  the  farm  houses  of  England  there  are  not  such 
spacious  thrashing  floors  attached  as  in  Italy,  on  which 
may  be  seen  broods  of  ducks,  the  hen  surrounded  by  her 
chickens,  the  turkeys  swelling  with  rage,  and  challenging 
one  another  to  satisfy  their  jealousy.  Here  the  ground 
is  principally  employed  in  pasture ;  grain  is  not  so  abun- 
dant as  with  us,  and,  besides,  the  climate  does  not  allow 
them  to  thrash  in  our  manner,  on  open  floors.  Here 
covered  over  thrashing  machines  are  used,  moved  by 
steam  or  horses,  and  that  cost  100Z.  or  120/.  sterling  to 
set  up.  The  farm  yard  therefore  is  more  confined,  and 
serves  only  for  the  horses  and  cows,  which,  when  they 
are  not  in  the  open  fields,  wander  about  and  lie  down  in 
these  farm  yards,  which  are  covered  with  straw  an  arm's 
length  deep,  by  way  of  providing  them  a  soft  and  ample 
bed.  The  uniformity  of  these  houses  is  pleasantly  varied" 
by  a  conspicuous  house,  built  in  the  style  of  the  castle 
palaces  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  days.  With  its  high  towers, 
which  once  expressed  the  necessity  of  defence  against 


IN  ENGLAND.  163 

sudden  assault,  and  with  its  large,  high,  and  numerous 
windows,  that  display  more  confidence  and  security,  it 
forms  an  agreeable  contrast  with  the  simple  and  humble 
habitations  that  surround  it,  and  seems,  like  a  feudal  ba- 
ron of  tjie  sixteenth  century,  armed  and  accoutred,  in  full 
array,  in  the  midst  of  his  obedient  vassals.  This  fantas- 
tic but  handsome  style  of  architecture  would  have  pleased 
Milizia,  who  so  warmly  recommended  variety  in  country 
houses. 

All  the  inhabitants  were  grouped  here  and  there  in 
the  middle  of  the  wide  and  spacious  street;  in  the  houses 
there  was  nobody  but  the  old  housewives,  dressed  in  their 
best,  and  ten  years  younger  in  their  faces,  from  the  light 
heartedness  which  animated  them,  and  the  praises  they 
received  for  the  well  made  plum  pudding  of  the  day. — 
[The  plum  pudding  is  a  sweet  compound  of  flour,  eggs, 
milk,  sugar,  raisins,  brandy,  and  beef  suet,  which  is  easily 
digested  by  means  of  a  ride  of  twenty  miles  on  a  high- 
trotting  horse!] — At  a  rustic  festival  in  Italy,  the  shouts 
and  cries  would  have  been  heard  a  mile  off, — the  burst 
of  that  Italian  merriment  which  kindles  of  itself,  even 
without  the  aid  of  wine,  from  the  mere  contact  of  per- 
sons. I  should  have  met  in  the  village  bands  of  young 
men,  singing  in  chorus,  with  bold  and  confident  looks, 
their  caps  mounted  with  a  peacock's  feather,  dangling 
down  over  one  eye,  and  somewhat  of  an  assuming  air, 
as  if  to  avenge  themselves  for  the  contempt  which  the- 
citizen  showers  without  reason  on  the  countryman  :  tiut; 
in  Heslington,  all  (up  to  that  moment)  was  order,  quiet,^ 
and  mutual  respect.  But  I  must  confess  the  scene  would 
haye  been  somewhat  more  animating,  if  there  had  been 
a  little  of  that  itinerant  music,  so  enlivening  to  the  spirit, 
which  is  met  with  at  every  step  in  Italy.  There  was  not 
even  one  of  those  inexorable  and  most  annoying  hand- 
organs  that  infest  our  streets  at  every  hour.  All  at  once, 


164  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

however,  I  heard  some  cheering  raised,  the  crowd  divided 
into  two  ranks;  and  I  perceived,  advancing  from  a  dis- 
tance, eight  or  nine  countrymen,  each  driving  a  wheel- 
barrow before  him  at  full  speed,  and  trying  his  utmost  to 
be  first  at  the  goal:  this  was  the  first  race  in  these  Olym- 
pic games.  Shortly  after  succeeded  a  ducking  match. 
This  game  is  played  by  placing  a  large  tub  of  water  in 
the  middle  of  the  road,  with  some  money  at  the  bottom : 
a  crowd  of  boys,  stripped  to  the  skin,  stand  around, 
awaiting  the  signal  to  dip  their  heads  in,  with  their  hands 
crossed  behind  their  backs,  to  bring  up  the  money  in 
their  mouths.  The  grimaces  of  the  boys,  when  they 
drew  their  heads  out  of  the  water  half  stifled,  without 
getting  any  thing  for  their  pains,  invariably  excited  the 
laughter  of  the  by-standers.  When  this  ducks'  game 
was  over,  happening  to  raise  my  eyes,  I  saw,  hung  up 
before  a  public-house,  a  new  saddle  and  bridle,  and  a 
couple  of  hats.  From  this  I  conceived  a  hope  that  there 
was  going  to  be  a  tilt  or  a  tournay,  or  some  similar 
heroic  contest ;  and  I  was  not  deceived  in  my  expecta- 
tion: a  horse  race  was,  in  fact,  approaching;  and  I  saw, 
without  having  long  to  wait,  four  large  farmers'  horses, 
mounted  by  four  stout  boys,  taking  their  way  to  the  spot 
fixed  upon  for  the  starting  post.  Although,  to  say  the 
truth,  steeds,  harness,  and  riders,  were  a  thousand  miles 
behind  those  I  had  seen,  a  day  or  two  before,  at  the 
county  races,  they  were,  nevertheless,  not  so  totally  bad 
that  I  could  call  it  a  complete  parody :  I  could  not,  there- 
fore, help  taking  an  interest  in  the  thing,  in  common 
with  the  rest,  and  preparing  to  admire  the  victor.  In  the 
end,  after  ten  minutes'  hard  galloping,  the  horses  got 
back  to  the  goal;  and  the  winner  was  conducted,  with 
the  same  acclamation  as  at  the  regular  races,  to  the  spot 
where  the  judges  sat: — 


IN  ENGLAND.  165 

"  When  ends  the  game  of  hazard  all  its  turns, 

The  one  that  lost  remains  behind  in  wo, 
Goes  o'er  the  game  again,  and  sadly  learns, 
While  all  the  people  with  the  others  go." 

Dante. 

In  London  there  is  the  jockey  club,  at  which,  months 
before  the  Doncaster  or  Newmarket  races  are  run,  bets 
are  laid  to  a  frightful  amount,  which  are  duly  recorded 
in  the  papers  :* — these  are  the  ruin  of  many  English 
gentlemen  of  fortune.  In  this  village  the  bets  certainly 
were  not  so  high,  but  the  warmth  with  which  they  were 
made  was  not  only  as  great,  but  perhaps  even  greater. 
The  English  in  general  do  not  play  at  cards,  but  are  in 
the  habit,  instead,  of  laying  wagers ;  they  bet  on  every 
thing, — on  sailing  and  rowing  matches  on  the  rivers, — 
on  games  at  cricket, — on  boxing  matches,  on  foot  races 
and  horse  races; — nay,  is  not  the  Exchange  itself,  in  a 
great  measure,  merely  a  great  betting  stand?  It  is  the 
same  passion  for  gaming  (that  innate  desire  in  man  of 
improving  his  condition),  opening  for  itself  a  different 
and  perhaps  a  less  injurious  vent,  since  it  tends  to  give 
new  animation  to  gymnastic  exercises,  and  to  perfection- 
ate  the  important  breed  of  horses. 

I  entered  a  public  house,  where  the  crowd  was  closer. 
Fifteen  or  twenty  farmers  were  seated  with  their  clay- 
pipes  of  perfect  whiteness  in  their  mouths,  and  pewter 
pots  full  of  gin  and  water  before  them.  I  took  a  seat  in 
their  circle,  and  whether  from  the  interest  they  one  and 
all  took  in  the  races,  which  they  were  talking  over,  or 
that  they  took  me  for  a  veteran  frequenter  of  the  house, 

*  One  of  the  most  famous  pugilists  in  England  recently  aspired 
to  purchase  an  elegant  villa,  with  the  sums  he  had  amassed  by 
boxing  and  betting,  amounting  to  forty  thousand  pounds  sterling. 


166  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

the  truth  is,  that  none  of  them  cast  a  single  glance  of 
curiosity  or  surprise  on  my  person.  A  butcher  came  in 
lamenting  the  misfortune  of  a  young  mare  of  his,  that  in 
running  had  broken  her  leg.  He  used  much  action 
with  his  mournful  recital,  to  excite  the  more  compas- 
sion, but  finding  his  hearers  inclined  rather  to  laugh 
than  cry,  he  also  took  to  comforting  himself  with  a  brim- 
ming glass  of  gin,  and  then  assuming  a  noble  and  heroic 
air  (with  the  hypocrisy  of  the  Roman  gladiator,  who 
"  died  with  decency,")  protested  that  it  was  not  the 
value  of  the  colt  he  took  to  heart,  but  the  colt  herself, 
which  was  his  favourite.  This  tragic  occurrence,  the 
betting,  and  the  brandy,  which  would  make  even  the 
dumb  speak,  had  now  rendered  these  farmers  so  talka- 
tive, that  I  found  myself  in  the  midst  of  a  sea  of  words ; 
I  say  a  sea  of  words,  because  I  could  understand  nothing 
of  their  conversation  beyond  a  few  isolated  expressions. 
Although  I  have  a  passable  knowledge  of  English,  I 
could  not  contrive  to  make  out  the  Yorkshire  dialect, 
which  is  one  of  the  strangest  and  most  corrupt  in  Eng- 
land. It  produced  a  curious  effect  on  me;  not  being  able 
to  catch  more  than  a  few  unconnected  words  here  and 
there,  I  seemed  to  be  reading  a  dictionary.  Hardly  any 
of  the  interlocutors  could  preserve  a  perpendicular;  when 
they  stood  on  their  feet,  they  all  began  to  hang,  now  to 
the  left,  now  to  the  right ;  like  the  Asses'  Towers  at  Bo- 
logna, though  bending  and  always  threatening  to  fall, 
they  never  fell.  A  circumstance  that  still  more  increased 
my  wonder  was,  that  though  their  bodies  tottered  this 
way  and  that,  their  reason,  their  talking,  never  wavered 
in  the  least — such  is  the  force  of  habit ! 

While  the  races  were  going  on,  there  suddenly  arose 
behind  my  back  a  dispute  on  some  point  of  betting, 
which  in  any  other  country  would  have  given  me  some 
apprehension,  but  in  England  did  not  even  make  rne  turn 


IN  ENGLAND.  167 

my  head,  knowing  that  these  quarrels  end  by  a  fight 
with  the  naked  fists  in  the  fields,  on  equal  terms,  and  be- 
fore a  hundred  eyes,  which  impartially  decide  whether 
the  blows  are  fair  or  foul.  At  last,  finding  that  this  com- 
bat of  abuse,  after  the  manner  of  the  heroes  of  Homer, 
did  not  come  to  a  conclusion,  I  looked  behind  me  for 
curiosity  sake,  and  found  that  the  strife  was  between  a 
tall,  thin,  but  sinewy  young  man,  who  had  drunk  more 
than  the  clothes  he  had  on  would  pay  for,  and  a  huge, 
heavy,  stupid  farmer,  who  seemed  to  have  lost  the  use 
of  his  joints  through  fat.  If  a  fight  had  taken  place,  I 
cannot  conceive  how  he  would  have  found  the  elasticity 
to  give  a  blow,  or  avoid  the  danger  of  being  upset  by  his 
adversary,  and  rolling  no  one  knows  where,  for  he  was 
as  round  as  the  map  of  the  world.  At  length,  behold,  an 
Iris  appeared  to  put  an  end  to  the  increasing  strife,  in 
the  shape  of  the  hostess,  a  tall,  slender,  and  not  ill  look- 
ing daughter  of  Eve,  who,  with  a  silvery  voice  (as  most 
Englishwomen  have),  and  that  voice  made  still  softer  by 
her  tone  of  entreaty,  acted  as  peace-maker  between  them. 
Every  moment  one  of  these  altercations  burst  forth  from 
some  corner  or  other  of  the  village,  but  that  sweet  sex? 
which  elsewhere  so  often  has  sabres,  knives,  and  daggers 
bared  for  its  sake,  was  here  always  the  pacificator  ;  and 
that  John  Bull,  who  is  accused  of  so  much  boorishness 
towards  the  ladies,  becomes  almond  paste  itself  at  her 
voice,  as  might  have  been  seen.  He  must  be  seen  at 
home,  honouring  and  indulging  his  "  mistress,"  (wife,) 
and  in  good  truth,  making  her  mistress  of  every  thing. 
I  had  here  an  opportunity  of  observing,  that  even  in  the 
heat  of  a  quarrel,  the  English  do  not  gesticulate  much ; 
I  remember  the  witty  Mr.  Sydney  Smith  saying  to  me 
one  day,  "Why  do  not  my  countrymen  use  their  arms  like 
other  nations?  There  is  no  doctor  and  no  law  to  pro- 
hibit it!" 


168  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

Thus  I  passed  the  evening  till  eleven  o'clock:  the 
company  then  beginning  to  separate,  I  resolved  to  return 
to  York.  How  delightful  is  a  pedestrian  stroll  by  moon- 
light in  England,  without  the  slightest  fear  of  encounter- 
ing a  highwayman  to  ease  one  of  one's  watch  and  purse ! 
Gone  are  the  times  of  the  equestrian  robbers,  of  the 
Robin  Hoods  and  the  Rob  Roys ;  they  are  now  no  more 
than  characters  of  romance,  and,  after  having  frightened 
their  contemporaries  with  their  thieving  feats,  now  serve 
for  a  diversion  to  children,  like  the  Blue  Beards,  the  Ez- 
zelino  da  Romanes,  the  Bernabs  Viscontis,  and  the  rest 
of  the  tyrants,  once  abominable  and  always  ridiculous. 
Cows,  cattle,  horses,  feed  through  almost  all  the  nights  of 
the  year  loose  in  the  fields,  without  even  so  much  as  a 
child  to  guard  them. 

It  might  be  thought  the  golden  age  of  innocence ;  but 
this  security  is  the  effect  of  the  law,  which  punishes 
horse  and  cattle  stealing  with  inevitable  death.  In  other 
cases  the  sentence  of  death  is  often  commuted  for  that  of 
transportation,  but  for  offences  of  this  nature  this  favour 
is  seldom  obtained. 

Another  pleasure  for  one  with  a  mind  a  little  exalted 
by  poetry  or  romance,  is  to  be  able  to  abandon  the  high 
road,  and  tread  the  paths  through  the  midst  of  the  soft 
and  verdant  meadows, — perhaps  the  only  and  most  an- 
cient right  of  landed  property  which  has  remained  to  the 
lower  classes  of  the  people.  Finally,  another  pleasure, 
not  less  valuable  to  one  overcome  with  fatigue,  is  to  get 
home,  and  find  in  a  little  lodging,  consisting  of  a  bed- 
room and  a  parlour,  all  the  comforts  and  the  quiet  that 
in  their  times  neither  the  Marquis  of  Carabas  enjoyed  in 
his  fief,  nor  the  good  King  of  Yuetot  of  Berenger,  in  his 
palace. 


IN  ENGLAND.  169 


THE   SPRING  ASSIZES, 


Those  who  have  never  read  the  fine  observations  of 
Filangieri  on  the  English  modes  of  procedure,  or,  better 
still,  the  valuable  work  of  M.  Cottu  on  the  institution  of 
juries,  and  the  publicity  of  the  courts  in  England,  may 
do  well  to  read  the  few  lines  which  follow. 

It  was  the  10th  of  March,  and  the  very  eve  of  the  arri- 
val of  two  of  the  twelve  judges,  who,  twice  a  year,  in 
March  and  August,  travel  from  London,  followed  by  a 
numerous  band  of  the  most  celebrated  barristers,  to  the 
circuit  assigned  them,  to  judge  all  the  criminal  causes 
pending,  and  the  civil  causes  which  come  within  their 
jurisdiction.  That  lively  interest,  those  lessons  of  wis- 
dom, that  useful  amusement,  which  the  Romans  extract- 
ed from  their  forum,  are  also  drawn  by  the  English  from 
these  courts,  called  the  assizes.  It  is  an  era  of  motion,  of 
merriment,  and,  at  the  same  time,  of  intense  and  painful 
anxiety.  The  gentlemen  of  the  country  betake  them- 
selves on  these  days  to  the  assize  town,  either  to  be  jury- 
men or  mere  spectators  of  the  trials, — to  meet  their 
friends  from  London,  or  to  enjoy  those  diversions  the 
town  always  presents  on  these  occasions.  On  every  side 
arrive  the  witnesses  and  parties  interested;  from  London 
come  some  of  the  most  eloquent  barristers,  or  in  general 
two  antagonists,  who  in  almost  every  cause  find  them- 
15 


170  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

selves  pitted  against  each  other,  and  with  them  a  nume- 
rous train  of  young  lawyers,  who  are  entering  on  their 
career,  and  desirous  of  making  themselves  known  to  the 
public.  At  each  of  these  epochs  the  jails  are  delivered, 
that  is,  the  prisons  are  emptied ;  all  must  be  brought  to 
trial;  innocent  or  guilty,  this  is  the  issue,  and  an  English- 
man who  should  have  plotted  a  universal  deluge,  must 
not  have  to  await  his  trial  longer  than  six  months. 

How  different  is  this  rejoicing  of  the  English  people 
at  their  assizes,  from  that  which  has  sometimes  been 
exhibited  by  a  thoughtless  nation  at  an  auto-da-fe !  But 
we  will  pass  over  the  comparison  with  a  tribunal  that 
exists  no  longer,  and  will  revive  no  more.  Let  us  rather 
draw  a  parallel  with  other  continental  tribunals,  which 
are  become  more  horrible  and  unjust  than  the  inquisition. 
What  a  difference,  I  mean  to  say,  between  those  senti- 
ments of  confidence  and  hilarity  which  precede  the  sittings 
of  the  English  courts,  and  the  horror  and  affright  which 
"  Special  Commissions,"  in  other  countries,  scatter  all 
around  the  spot  on  which  they  plant  the  bloody  axe ! 
And  with  what  good  reason  too !  for  no  one  believes  him- 
self in  safety  under  judges  retained  to  discover  crime 
even  where  it  is  not  in  existence,  and  who,  after  torment- 
ing their  victim  with  a  torture  slowerthan  that  of  an- 
cient days, — with  threats,  with  fastings,  with  insidious 
promises,  writh  a  long  continued  imprisonment,  at  last 
pronounce  their  sentence  with  all  the  mystery  of  assassi- 
nation. 

The  English  assizes,  on  the  contrary,  do  not  quicken 
the  pulse  of  him  who  is  conscious  of  his  innocence,  a 
single  beat.  In  all  hearts,  on  all  faces,  is  the  conviction 
of  the  integrity,  mildness,  and  impartiality,  with  which 
justice  will  be  administered.  I  have  often  mixed  with  the 
crowd,  immersed  myself  in  the  groups  of  people,  on  pur- 
pose to  ascertain  the  sentiments  prevailing  among  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  171 

lower  classes ;  and  not  one  suspicion  did  I  discover,  not 
one  word  did  I  hear  that  indicated  distrust  of,  or  aver- 
sion to,  the  administrators  of  justice.  Besides,  they  know 
the  judgment  of  the  fact,  the  most  important  of  all,  is 
not  in  the  hands  of  the  judges  of  the  crown,  but  of  the 
jury,  their  equals.  "  By  the  law  of  the  land,  and  the  judg- 
ment of  his  peers,"  is  one  of  the  most  ancient  privileges 
consecrated  by  Magna  Charta,  and  of  which  every  Eng- 
lishman is  justly  proud.  The  king  of  England  can  make 
many  of  the  monarchs  of  the  earth  tremble,  but  not  any 
one  of  his  subjects.  He  must  be  judged  by  his  peers, 
according  to  the  law  of  the  land, — "  By  the  law  of  the 
land,  and  the  judgment  of  our  peers." 

So  scrupulously  is  this  privilege  observed,  that  when 
Baretti  (author  of  the  Literary  Scourge)  was  brought  to 
trial  for  a  homicide  committed  by  him  at  night  in  a 
street  of  London,  in  self-defence,  it  was  offered  to  him 
if  he  wished  it,  that  six  of  the  jury  should  be  Italians. 
He  renounced  this  right,  and  was  acquitted.  I  was  my- 
self present  at  the  trial  of  a  German,  who  was  also  ask- 
ed if  he  wished  half  the  jury  to  be  composed  of  his  own 
countrymen ;  and  he  also  declined.  Such  is  the  confi- 
dence that  trial  by  jury  inspires. 

To  return  :  A  great  part  of  the  population  of  Notting- 
ham, therefore,  had  taken  its  way  on  the  morning  of 
the  10th  of  March,  along  the  road  by  which  the  two 
judges,  named  by  the  crown,  for  the  Nottingham  (Mid- 
land) circuit,  were  to  arrive.  All  is  to  a  T,  as  I  have 
already  said,  in  this  most  punctual  England ;  eleven 
o'clock  was  announced  as  the  hour  of  their  arrival,  and 
precisely  at  eleven,  a  fine  coach,  with  four  horses,  with 
the  postilion  in  his  tight  and  handsome  jacket,  the  coach- 
man in  a  three  cornered  hat,  like  that  of  our  priests,  the 
arms  of  the  city  on  the  panels,  and  two  footmen,- in  a 
flaring  new  livery,  behind,  heralded  the  coming  of  the 


172  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

judges.  The  carriage  was  preceded  by  a  score  of  men 
on  horseback,  with  the  city  banner  waving  from  a  jave- 
lin, and  swords  by  their  sides.  All  this  parade  was  at 
the  expense  of  the  high  sheriff  of  the  county,  who  repre- 
sents, on  the  bench,  by  the  side  of  the  judges,  the  sove- 
reign, or  executive  power,  mute,  motionless,  and  passive, 
present  only  to  execute  the  sentences :  it  was  followed 
by  a  great  number  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  city,  who 
had  gone  out  on  horseback  to  meet  the  judges.  This 
awaiting,  this  welcome,  these  honours, — all  this  pomp 
not  only  tends  to  increase  in  the  people  their  reverence 
for  justice,  but  to  strengthen,  in  the  judges  themselves, 
the  feeling  of  their  own  dignity,  and  the  high  import- 
ance of  their  duties. 

Without  loss  of  time,  in  about  an  hour,  the  court  was 
installed,  and  the  civil  and  criminal  trials  began  in  two 
separate  halls.  In  England,  the  prejudice  that  it  is  in- 
human and  unbecoming  to  be  present  at  the  sitting  of 
the  tribunals,  does  not  exist ;  it  is  thought,  on  the  con- 
trary, to  be  a  school  of  experience,  penetration,  and  elo- 
quence. The  Roman  youth  became  robust  and  hardy 
in  the  field  of  Mars, — wise  and  enlightened  in  the  forum. 
In  the  same  way,  persons  of  every  age,  sex,  and  rank  in 
society,  meet  here  at  the  assizes.  The  courts  or  halls 
of  justice,  which  within  the  last  sixty  years  have  been 
rebuilt  almost  all  throughout  England,  in  a  grander  and 
more  appropriate  style  than  before,  are  suitable  to  the 
increase  in  the  population  and  riches  of  the  island.  Be- 
sides the  district  compartments  for  the  judges,  for  the 
witnesses,  for  the  accused,  and  for  the  barristers,  there 
is  an  open  space  for  the  common  people,  and  a  gallery  a 
little  more  commodious,  for  the  more  elevated  classes. 
The  people  are  never  treated  as  a  rabble  in  England ; 
they -are  always  respected,  but  never  confounded  with 
the  middle  and  higher  classes.  The  courts  are  always 


IN  ENGLAND.  173 

filled  with  ladies  and  gentlemen,  all  polite  towards  each 
other,  all  attentive,  arid  anxious  for  the  fate  of  the  pri- 
soner. In  the  beautiful  court  house  of  the  city  of  York,  I 
sometimes  saw  the  gallery  adorned  with  numbers  of  lovely 
Englishwomen,  who  had  left  their  elegant  villas  to  see  and 
to  be  seen,  and  worthy  of  being  seen  they  were  indeed. 
These  galleries  looked  like  conservatories  of  flowers  ;  I 
certainly  would  not  have  given  the  sight  of  them  for  the 
magnificent  theatrical  spectacle  of  the  Roman  forum. 
It  is  needless  to  say,  that  all  who  occupy  the  open  seats 
are  decently  dressed ;  it  is  riot,  however  superfluous  to  re- 
mark, that  even  the  prisoners  appear  at  the  bar  with  the 
same  neatness  and  cleanliness  as  if  they  were  going  to 
be  married.  In  this  the  English  usage  is  very  different 
from  that  of  the  ancient  Romans,  who  sought,  with  torn 
and  dark  coloured  clothes,  with  dishevelled  hair,  and 
floods  of  tears,  to  excite  the  pity  of  their  judges.  In 
the  English  procedure,  there  is  no  room  for  excitements, 
neither  the  arts  of  the  accused  nor  the  rhetorical  flou- 
rishes of  the  advocate  are  admitted,  nor  would  produce 
any  effect  if  they  were. 

If  the  large  and  comical  wigs  worn  by  the  judges  and 
counsellors  be  excepted,  all  is  extremely  simple  in  these 
tribunals ;  the  sanctity  of  the  laws,  and  the  majesty  of 
the  people,  that  we  so  often  read  of  in  Cicero,  are  seen 
here  in  reality. 

Judge  Best  made  to  the  grand  and  petty  juries  a  short 
address,  in  which  he  made  particular  mention  of  a  man 
who  had  killed  his  own  wife,  and  who  was  to  be  put 
upon  his  trial.  He  pointed  out  to  the  petty  jury  the 
difference  between  a  murder  committed  simply  on  the 
provocation  of  abusive  words,  and  one  committed  in 
consequence  of  provocation  by  blows :  he  touched  on 
this  distinction  without  making  any  allusion  to  the  case 
in  question.  His  address  was  simple,  destitute  of  any 
15* 


1  74  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

over  elegance,  and  delivered  in  a  natural  tone,  and  with 
that  self-possession  which  a  judge  acquires  by  the  habit 
of  constantly  speaking  in  public. 

By  the  side  of  this  venerable  be-gowned,  be-wigged, 
and  be-spectacled  Minos,  was  seated  a  young  lady, — 
through  favour  that  the  ladies  sometimes  enjoy  of  sitting 
on  the  bench, — a  privilege  of  which  they  do  not  fail  to 
take  advantage,  bashful  as  they  are.  This  young  lady 
was  fair  haired,  somewhat  stout,  with  a  most  ample  bon- 
net of  black  velvet,  trimmed  with  ribands  of  various  co- 
lours :  dressed  in  scarlet,  she  seemed  a-blaze  with  youth 
and  beauty.  She  was  not  only  beautiful,  but  dangerous  : 
she  made,  perhaps  unconsciously,  all  those  motions  that 
the  seducing  owl  makes  use  of  at  a  barn  door  when  the 
little  birds  are  passing  by.  The  Athenian  Areopagus 
would  have  made  her  veil  her  face.  By  good  fortune, 
however,  age  rendered  the  English  magistrate  invulner- 
able to  the  shafts  of  her  eyes,  her  smiles,  her  gestures. 
It  was  a  fine  contrast  between  that  small  well  dressed 
head,  and  the  full  curly  wig  of  the  judge,  which  de- 
scended on  his  shoulders  like  a  lion's  mane,  between 
the  laughing,  sparkling  eyes  of  the  young  lady,  and  the 
severe  eyebrows  and  the  spectacles  of  the  sexagenarian 
judge !  She  seemed  placed  there  by  a  painter  for  the 
felicity  of  the  contrast,  as  they  always  place  the  Virgin 
Mary  near  the  old  Saint  Joseph.  In  relation  to  this,  I 
have  often  heard  my  dear  countrywomen  (who  know 
well  the  effect  of  contrast)  take  pleasure  in  being  sur- 
rounded by  a  sanhedrim  of  aged  Simeons  :  there  is  not 
perhaps  a  finer  contrast  than  a  Susanna  between  two 
Elders. 

One  of  the  prisoners  was  convicted  of  horse-stealing, 
a  crime  punished  with  death  in  England,  on  account  of 
the  facility  of  its  commission ;  the  farmers,  as  I  observ- 
ed before,  turning  out  their  horses  to  feed  in  the  open 


IN  ENGLAND.  175 

fields,  without  any  keeper.  The  judge  informed  him 
that  the  punishment  he  had  incurred  was  that  of  death, 
but  apprised  him  that  it  would  be  commuted  to  transpor- 
tation for  life.  This  humane  apprisal  called  to  my  mind 
the  cruel  clemency  of  certain  rulers,  who  suffer  the  con- 
demned to  remain  in  ignorance  of  the  mitigation  of 
their  punishment,  to  the  very  moment  of  execution, — 
on  the  scaffold  itself:  the  greater  part  of  the  Austrian 
soldiers  to  whom  their  pardon  is  communicated  only  at 
the  moment  when,  on  their  knees,  and  blindfolded,  they 
await  the  four  balls  in  the  forehead, — remain  all  the 
rest  of  their  lives  feeble  minded,  or  absolute  idiots. 

Another  of  the  prisoners,  thinking  to  avoid  part  of  his 
punishment  by  confessing  his  crime,  when  asked  if  he 
wished  to  plead  "  guilty"  or  "  not  guilty" ;  replied 
"  guilty."  The  judge  made  him  observe,  that  this  would 
not  do  him  the  least  service,  and  that  it  was  still  time  to 
retract  his  plea.  Another  lesson  for  those  tribunals  on 
the  continent,  where,  among  the  other  iniquities  com- 
mitted with  closed  doors,  it  is  customary  to  tempt  the 
accused  with  insidious  snares  of  pretended  evidence, 
false  confessions,  accomplices,  &c. 

When  I  observed  the  frank  and  earnest  manner  in  which 
the  witnesses  deposed  to  what  they  had  heard  and  seen, 
— when  I  saw  gentlemen  and  gentlewomen  appear  in 
the  box  without  repugnance,  or  shame, — when  I  read  in 
the  public  journals  that  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and 
many  other  lords  were  cited,  or  voluntarily  pre- 
sented themselves  to  give  evidence  in  favour  of  a  pri- 
soner, I  called  to  mind  a  passage  in  the  16th  volume  of 
Sismondi's  History  of  the  Italian  Republics,  in  which, 
as  a  proof  of  the  effects  of  the  degraded,  mercenary, 
and  arbitrary  administration  of  the  laws  in  some  of  the 
Italian  governments  of  the  eighteenth  century,  M.  Sis- 
mondi  adduces  the  horror  the  very  name  of  a  tribunal 


1  76  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

carried  with  it,  the  inevitable  infamy  of  whoever  was 
merely  accused,  the  disgust  which  the  lower  officers  of 
justice  inspired,  and  the  shame,  the  scruples,  and  the 
terror  experienced  by  every  one  at  appearing  to  bear 
witness  before  a  judge.  The  admirable  observations  of 
M.  Sismondi  are  still  applicable  to  many  of  the  tribunals 
in  the  north  of  Italy. 

Here  I  only  speak  of  the  English  mode  of  procedure, 
because  it  is  known  to  all  that  the  penal  laws  are  mon- 
strously disproportioned  to  the  heaviness  of  the  offences,* 
so  that  the  jury,  not  being  able  to  acquit  the  prisoner  of 
the  fact,  often  correct  the  excess  of  the  law,  by  classify- 
ing the  crime  a  degree  lower  in  the  scale.  Of  this  I  was 
myself  a  witness ;  a  pickpocket  would  have  been  sen- 
tenced to  a  very  severe  punishment  for  a  theft  he  had 
committed  of  a  handkerchief,  which  the  owner  valued  at 
five  shillings.  The  jury  found  the  accused  guilty  of  the 
theft,  and,  being  obliged  to  declare  what  was  the  value  of 
the  stolen  property,  decided  that  the  handkerchief  was 
only  worth  one  shilling.  The  pickpocket  conducted  his 
own  defence,  and  interrogated  the  prosecutor  with  the 
ingenuity  and  dexterity  his  trade  would  lead  one  to  look 
for.  The  delinquents  of  other  descriptions  are  generally 
not  so  artful  in  their  defence. 

Eloquence  is  almost  totally  excluded  from  criminal 
trials.  The  counsel  for  the  prisoner  may  make  as  many  ob- 
servations and  examine  as  many  witnesses  as  he  chooses ; 
but  he  is  forbidden  to  excite  the  passions,  or  to  address 

*  Nor  do  I  intend  to  speak  of  the  English  civil  laws,  which  would 
be  a  burden  for  a  hundred  camels,  nor  of  the  enormous  expenses  of 
legal  proceedings,  to  which  the  fable  of  the  oyster  is  so  closely  ap- 
plicable,— 

A  shell  for  thee  and  a  shell  for  me, 
The  oyster  is  the  lawyer's  fee ! 


IN  ENGLAND.  177 

the  jury  on  the  fact.  In  cases,  however,  of  theft  and  ho- 
micide (I  do  not  know  why,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to 
say),  the  prisoner's  counsel  cannot  deliver  any  speech, 
but  may  cross-examine  witnesses,  and  supply  his  client 
with  a  defence  in  writing.  The  prisoner  may  speak  as 
often  as  he  wishes,  and  may  also  read  his  own  defence, 
but  very  rarely  avails  himself  of  his  right ;  in  fact,  what 
need  is  there  of  specious  eloquence,  when  the  procedure 
itself,  carried  on  with  open  doors,  in  presence  of  the 
public,  and  with  the  most  delicate  precautions  in  favour 
of  the  criminals,  is  itself  a  defence  worthy  of  Cicero  ? 
Eloquence  has  a  fairer  field  in  the  civil  causes.  It  was 
in  one  of  these  I  saw,  in  opposition,  at  York,  the  two 
celebrated  counsellors,  Brougham  and  Scarlett.  The 
cause  was  of  a  rather  singular  nature,  and  such  as  there 
certainly  is  no  example  of  in  the  annals  of  Athens  and 
Rome.  The  question  was,  who  were  the  rightful  owners 
of  a  whale,  which  was  mortally  wounded  by  a  party  of 
sailors,  and  dragged  ashore  out  of  the  sea  by  some  fisher- 
men :  the  subject  was  sufficiently  heavy  to  employ  all 
the  abilities  of  the  two  gowned  rivals.  The  rhetorical 
weapons,  the  various  artifices,  the  different  motions  and 
looks  made  use  of  by  them  in  the  contest,  diverted  me 
excessively.  Both  are  members  of  parliament,  but  Brough- 
am is  far  superior  in  the  eloquence  of  the  senate  to  his 
opponent.  Scarlett,  a  more  profound  and  expert  lawyer, 
avenges  himself  in  the  court  of  this  superiority  of  the 
other,  although  Brougham  is  not  the  man  to  yield  pre- 
eminence to  any  man  on  earth.  Scarlett,  grave,  confi- 
dent in  his  knowledge,  with  swelling  breast,  seems  like 
a  cuirassier  well  steeled  against  assault,  and  wishing  to 
conquer  by  the  weight  of  his  arms ;  Brougham,  strong 
in  his  quickness  of  mind,  and  the  flexibility  of  his  wit, 
resembles  an  Arab  cavalier,  who,  flying  round  and  round, 
at  once  avoids  and  assails  an  enemy.  Scarlett,  when  he 


178  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

addressed  himself  to  the  jury,  while  he  maintained  the 
steady  dignity  of  an  experienced  jurisconsult,  fixed  his 
penetrating  eyes  on  the  faces  of  the  jurymen,  to  discover 
the  emotions  of  their  minds,  and  turn  them  to  profit. 
Brougham,  on  the  other  hand,  sought  to  distract  their 
attention  from  the  points  dangerous  to  his  client  by  sub- 
tleties, and  sallies  of  wit  and  sarcasm,  of  which  his  store 
is  inexhaustible.  Scarlett  is  the  admiration  of  the  legal 
profession ;  Brougham  the  favourite  of  the  fair  sex,  and 
of  the  public,  for  his  witty  sallies. 

The  fatigue  which  the  counsellors  go  through  for  the 
few  days  the  assizes  last  is  incredible:  but  they  are 
amply  recompensed,  I  do  not  mean  merely  by  their  large 
fees,  but  by  the  admiration  and  respect  of  the  people,  who 
contemplate  them,  when  they  are  on  their  feet  in  court 
delivering  their  speeches,  with  the  same  avidity  that  we 
gaze  on  the  Apollo  Belvidere.*  He  who  has  felt  the  love 

*  James  Hall,  the  author  of  Legends  of  the  West,  &c.  in  his 
Western  Monthly  Magazine  of  last  month,  has  the  following  ju- 
dicious remarks  on  the  same  subject. — Ed. 

"  In  some  of  the  eastern  states,  few  persons  go  into  a  court  of 
law,  unless  they  have  business.  It  is  not  so  here.  Court  week  is 
a  general  holiday.  Not  only  suitors,  jurors,  and  witnesses,  but  all 
who  can  spare  the  time,  brush  up  their  coats,  and  brush  down  their 
horses,  and  go  to  court.  A  stranger  is  struck  with  the  silence,  the 
eagerness,  and  deep  attention,  with  which  these  rough  sons  of  the 
forest  listen  to  the  arguments  of  the  lawyers,  evincing  a  lively  inte- 
rest in  these  proceedings,  and  thorough  understanding  of  the  ques- 
tions discussed.  Besides  those  alluded  to,  there  are  a  variety  of 
other  public  meetings.  Every  thing  is  done  in  this  country  in  popu- 
lar assemblies,  all  questions  are  debated  in  popular  speeches,  and 
decided  by  popular  vote.  These  facts  speak  for  themselves.  Not 
only  must  a  vast  deal  of  information  be  disseminated  throughout  a 
society  thus  organised,  but  the  taste  for  popular  assemblies  and 
,  public  harangues,  which  forms  so  striking  a  trait  in  the  western 
character,  is,  in  itself,  a  conclusive  proof  of  a  high  degree  of  intel- 
ligence. Ignorant  people  would  neither  relish  nor  understand  the 
oratory,  which  our  people  receive  with  enthusiastic  applause.  Tg- 


IN  ENGLAND.  179 

of  glory  knows  that  one  hour  of  public  esteem  is  worth 
ten  years  of  a  soft  epicurean  life. 

The  rapidity  with  which  the  trials  were  despatched  is 
not  less  incredible.  In  ten  or  twelve  days  every  year, 
two  judges  get  through  from  100  to  120  criminal,  and, 
perhaps,  as  many  civil  cases.  In  the  criminal  causes 
there  are  never  those  skeins  of  interrogatories  which  I 
once  saw,  in  Italy,  mount  up,  in  a  case  of  assassination, 
to  at  least  30  volumes  in  folio,  of  300  pages  each.  The 
English,  luckily  for  them,  have  not  that  race  of  notaries, 
whose  trade  consists  in  exhausting  the  patience  and  the 
lungs  of  prisoners  and  witnesses,  and  driving  them  into 
confusion  and  fainting  fits,  with  interminable  costituti 
and  redarguizioni  (settled  points,  and  points  to  be  cleared 
up).  This  is  the  fruit  we  have  gathered  from  the  im- 
mortal works  of  Beccaria,  Filangieri,  and  Marco  Pagano : 
England,  on  the  contrary,  without  having  had  the  glory 
of  producing  those  luminaries  of  criminal  science,*  dis- 
covered, by  the  help  of  good  sense  alone,  two  principles, — 
publicity,  and  the  jury, — by  means  of  which  she  enjoys 
a  rapid,  liberal,  and  impartial  administration  of  justice. 
When  the  trial  commences,  there  is  no  document  but  a 
piece  of  paper, — the  bill  of  indictment,  found  by  the  grand 
jury,  whose  business  it  is  previously  to  decide,  by  ex- 
amining into  the  broad  points  of  the  affair,  on  the  admis- 
sibility  of  the  accusation.  As  soon  as  this  is  read,  the 
interrogatories  commence.  In  the  meanwhile,  the  judge 
notes  down  the  answers,  and  draws  up  a  succinct  narra- 
tive of  the  case,  with  the  most  remarkable  circumstances. 
When  the  questions  are  ended, — and  they  cannot  last 

norant  people  would  not  attend  such  meetings,  week  after  week, 
and  day  after  day,  with  unabated  interest;  nor  could  they  thus  go, 
and  remain  ignorant." 

*  Blackstone,  although  a  great  writer,  is  only  the  commentator 
on  a  legislation  which  preceded  him. 


180  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

long  where  the  presence  of  an  auditory  impedes  the  in- 
sidious arts  of  malignity, — the  judge  reads  over  a  reca- 
pitulation of  the  case  to  the  jury,  who  are  to  decide 
whether  the  accused  is  guilty  or  not  of  the  fact  laid  to 
his  charge.  It  is  impossible  that  there  should  be  the 
slightest  alteration  in  this  narrative ;  because  the  public, 
which  has  heard  all,  is,  so  to  speak,  the  judge  of  the 
judge.  Besides,  the  jury,  who  have  also  heard  all,  can 
rectify  any  error  or  omission  he  may  fall  into.  The  jury 
take,  in  general,  two  or  three  minutes  to  ascertain  their 
unanimity,  and  declare  their  judgment.  If  the  ac- 
cused be  found  guilty,  the  judge  has  only  to  apportion 
the  punishment  to  the  quality  of  the  offence.  This  done, 
the  tragedy  is  over ;  there  is  no  longer  room  for  appeals, 
for  "  cassations,"  or  for  open  processes,  as  if  a  man  could 
be  guilty  and  not  guilty  of  an  act.  Where  did  we  go  to 
find  the  labyrinth  of  our  criminal  procedure  ?  I  may  be 
deceived,  but  certainly  the  English  system  has,  if  nothing 
else,  the  advantage  of  simplicity  and  celerity ;  and,  in  the 
same  manner  that  the  liberty  of  the  press,  true  and  un- 
injured, corrects  all  the  detects  of  a  government,  it  ap- 
pears to  me  that  the  publicity  of  trials,  united  to  the 
institution  of  an  independent  jury,  obviates  all  the  incon- 
veniences that  a  metaphysical  legislator,  with  his  laws 
that  turn  molehills  into  mountains,  would  discern  in  such 
a  kind  of  procedure. 

We  have  books,  and  the  English  have  institutions. 
Without  the  boast  of  having  given  to  Europe  the  Filan- 
gieries,  the  Beccarias,  the  Matteis,  the  Servins,  the  Mon- 
tesquieus,  they  possess  an  excellent  procedure.  We  be- 
lieve that  the  profession  of  a  judge  requires  the  most 
profound  study,  a  mind  the  most  acute,  incessant  labour, 
in  fine,  we  believe  it  a  profession  reserved  for  a  few  pri- 
vileged beings.  On  the  contrary,  they,  by  applying  the 
great  rnaxim  of  the  division  of  labour,  have  rendered  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  181 

business  of  a  judge  most  easy,  at  least  a  good  half  of  it. 
Having  separated  the  judges  of  the  fact  from  those  of 
the  punishment,  they  have  by  this  means  effected  this 
great  end,  that  the  positive  knowledge  of  the  laws  is  re- 
quisite only  for  the  latter,  while  for  the  others  rectitude 
and  common  sense  are  sufficient.  The  judges,  in  their 
ermined  scarlet  gowns,  and  large  wigs,  with  the  title  of 
"  My  Lord,"  are,  and  ought  to  be,  real  adepts  in  the 
law ;  while  the  members  of  the  grand  jury  are  simply 
gentlemen  and  men  of  property,  ignorant  of  every  kind 
of  law ;  and  those  of  the  petty  jury  are  mere  shopkeepers, 
shoemakers,  or  tailors,  provided  only  with  the  great 
science  of  common  sense.  The  institution  of  the  jury  is 
so  public  an  exercise  of  rights  and  equity,  that  it  cannot 
but  contribute  to  mend  the  morals,  and  influence  the  good 
conduct,  of  the  lower  orders  of  the  people.  It  causes  sur- 
prise and  pleasure  at  once,  to  find,  in  the  midst  of  cities 
full  of  luxury  and  vice,  that  same  integrity  and  sense  of 
right  in  the  people,  that  are  scarcely  to  be  found  even 
among  the  simple  and  unsophisticated  inhabitants  of  the 
mountains  of  Switzerland. 

I  resume  my  narration :  On  the  Sunday  that  succeeded 
two  sittings  of  the  assize,  the  two  judges  went  with  the 
juries  and  magistrates,  to  the  largest  church,  with  so- 
lemnity. It  is  a  custom  at  the  assize,  for  a  sermon  to  be 
preached  before  the  constituent  members  of  the  court; 
the  admirers  of  Sterne  will  find  in  his  works  a  most  ex- 
cellent one,  delivered  on  a  similar  occasion.  This  so- 
lemn alliance  of  religion  with  justice,  communicates  to 
the  latter  a  sacredness  which  is  very  useful  to  society. 
Mr.  Bentham  has  observed,  that  all  the  ceremonies,  and 
certain  imposing  formalities,  in  the  administration  of 
criminal  justice,  make  as  deep  an  impression  on  the 
minds  of  the  people,  as  the  pains  and  punishments  them- 
selves. A  criminal  trial  is  a  real  tragedy  for  the  people, 
16 


182  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

The  ancient  Gothic  architecture  of  the  church,  the  psalms 
sung  to  the  pealing  of  the  organ,  the  sincere  contrition  of 
all  present,  affected  me  to  the  soul,  and  induced  me  to 
venerate  those  religious  rites  which  else  might  have 
moved  my  laughter.  Slavery  produces  a  nausea  of  every 
thing;  and,  when  we  know  no  longer  how  sufficiently  to 
vent  our  anger  at  our  condition,  we  turn  it  against  reli- 
gion, against  letters,  against  operatic  spectacles, — we  see 
in  every  thing  a  producer  of  our  slavery.  In  a  free  coun- 
try, England  for  example,  the  mind  always  satisfied, 
sweetened  by  liberty,  alive  to  the  benefits — the  maternal 
protection  of  the  laws,  the  mind  is  in  peage  with  all, 
loves  every  institution,  every  custom,  because  it  believes 
them  the  authors  of  its  happiness,  and  endures  abuses 
and  inconveniences  with  untiring  patience. 

The  following  day  came  on  early  the  trial  of  a  car- 
penter, who  had,  through  jealousy,  killed  his  wife  by 
repeated  blows  of  a  hammer.  The  court  was  crammed 
full  of  people ;  if  I  must  speak  the  truth,  it  displeased 
me  to  see  a  great  number  of  well  educated  young  ladies 
among  the  spectators, — I  should  have  liked,  at  least,  to 
whisper  in  their  ears,  that  they  should  remember  never 
more  to  blame  the  Spanish  girls  for  taking  pleasure  in  a 
bull-fight.  The  culprit  appeared  at  the  bar  with  a  tran- 
quil mien.  This  brutal  Othello  seemed  determined  to 
bear  his  sentence  of  death  with  intrepidity.  All  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  him,  the  unfortunate  hero  of  the  day. 
All  are  anxious  in  such  moments  to  watch  the  efforts  of 
the  struggle,  that  a  single  man  is  then  obliged  to  sustain 
against  the  whole  body  of  society,  which,  armed  against 
him,  yet  leaves  him  the  privilege  of  defending  himself. 
None  of  the  spectators,  however,  I  believe,  experienced 
emotion  greater  than  mine.  I  remembered  at  that 
moment,  that,  some  years  before,  I  was  to  have  been 
placed  in  a  similar  conflict,  from  which  only  the  favour 


IN  ENGLAND.  183 

of  fortune  enabled  me  to  escape,  and  I  pictured  to  my- 
self the  bar,  before  which,  without  witnesses,  without 
counsel,  without  the  presence  of  the  public,  my  friends 
were  condemned  to  death  : — 

"  And  as  the  man  that  scap'd  with  failing  breath 

From  forth  the  sea  upon  the  desert  shore, 
Turns  back  and  gazes  on  the  flood  of  death, 
So  too,  my  soul,  still  flying — " 

turned  back  at  that  moment  to  contemplate  the  iniqui- 
tous sentence  which  then  awaited  me  ! — But  let  us  get 
on. 

When  the  judge  was  about  to  commence  his  ques- 
tions, a  great  noise  was  heard,  and  it  was  found  to 
arise  from  the  prisoner,  who,  abandoned  by  his  courage, 
fell  backwards  "  as  falls  a  lifeless  corse."  The  jailer, 
and  two  surgeons,  ran  to  his  assistance ;  every  means 
was  tried  to  restore  him  to  sensation.  He,  meanwhile 
seized  with  violent  convulsions,  contorted  his  body  in  a 
thousand  ways.  After  some  time,  he  came  to  himself 
again,  wiped  his  face,  and  stood  up  again  at  the  bar ; 
but,  as  soon  as  the  judge,  in  a  benignant  voice,  asked 
him  if  he  was  in  a  condition  to  take  his  trial,  the  pri- 
soner answered  "  Yes,"  and  swooned  anew  in  the  very 
act.  I  was  all  pity  at  this,  when  one  of  the  counsel- 
lors, who,  by  the  habit  of  their  profession,  are  apt  to 
become  too  sharp-sighted  and  insensible,  told  me  that 
he  did  not  deserve  our  compassion.  He  had  noticed 
that,  in  swooning,  his  countenance  had  not  at  all 
changed  colour,  and  that  the  fire  of  his  eyes  was 
not  at  all  darkened,  far  from  being  entirely  extinguish- 
ed, as  is  usually  the  case  in  faintings.  "  Therefore," 
subjoined  he,  "  this  is  all  art  and  hypocrisy  in  the  pri- 
soner, to  soften  his  judges  to  pity,  or  gain  a  day  of  life." 


184  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

So  much  trouble  and  dissimulation  to  gain  a  day  of 
life  !  said  I  at  first  to  myself,  stoically ;  but  I  afterwards 
recollected  that  those  Romans  who  were  prodigal  of 
their  lives,  and  died  like  heroes  for  their  country,  when 
they  presented  themselves  in  the  forum,  dishevelled 
their  hair,  rent  their  garments,  rolled  themselves  in  the 
dust,  and  left  nothing  untried  to  move  the  pity  of  the 
judges,  and  avert  the  scythe  of  death  from  "  dear  life  !" 
Dear  indeed  it  is,  and  Homer  had  good  reason  to  call  it 
so  often  by  this  epithet. 

The  judge  postponed  the  trial  to  the  following  day, 
and  announced  this  delay  to  the  prisoner. 

The  next  day  the  accused  re-appeared ; — he  no  longer 
lost  himself,  he  gave  answers,  he  proposed  questions ; — 
and,  at  length,  after  a  five  hours'  trial,  the  jury  found 
him  "  Guilty."  The  evidence  was  so  clear  and  com- 
plete that  the  jury  only  deliberated  a  few  minutes  before 
they  became  unanimous.  The  judge  then  covered  his 
head  with  a  black  cap  of  most  antique  cut,  and  pro- 
nounced sentence  of  death,  which  was  received  by  the 
criminal  with  unassuming  firmness.  The  sentence  in- 
cluded the  formula  of  the  English  law,  that  his  body 
should  be  given  to  the  surgeons  for  dissection :  hence  it 
may  be  said  that  the  surgeons  are  the  heirs  of  the 
hanged, — nor  is  the  inheritance  to  be  despised  ; — bodies 
for  dissection  are  very  scarce  and  expensive  in  Eng- 
land, so  much  so,  that  the  surgeons  have  sometimes 
had  grave  disputes  for  the  possession  of  a  dead  body, 
and  have  even  gone  to  law  on  that  account. 

Two  days  after,  the  condemned  criminal  was  hanged, 
a  barbarous  mode  of  putting  a  man  to  death,  which  the 
English  palliate  by  the  use  of  a  constant  poetical  ex- 
pression, "  He  was  launched  into  eternity." 

The  prisoner,  an  hour  before  going  to  the  gallows, 
told  the  mayor  that  he  died  happy  and  contented,  being 


IN  ENGLAND.  185 

persuaded  that  in  another  hour  he  should  be  in  Paradise: 
and  he  was  in  fact  quite  resigned.  He  had  been  in- 
spired with  this  hope  by  the  minister  of  the  methodist 
sect,  to  which  he  belonged :  this  sect,  of  which  I  shall 
speak  elsewhere,  holds  the  dangerous  doctrine,  u  The 
greater  the  sinner  the  greater  the  saint ;"  and  accord- 
ing to  a  methodist,  faith  in  the  Lord's  grace  is  sufficient 
to  procure  his  pardon  for  all  the  sins  he  ever  committed, 
without  the  necessity  of  repentance.  This  doctrine  is 
a-kin  to  that  which  Ariosto  puts  into  the  mouth  of 
Ruggiero,  when,  in  the  whale's  throat,  he  comforts 
Adolpho,  who  is  grieving  at  his  heinous  and  infamous 
sins,  with  this  stanza : — 

"  To  all  men  sin  is  common,  and  we  read 

That  seven  full  times  a  day  the  just  man  falls ; 
Mercy  divine  hath  ever,  too,  decreed 

To  pardon  him  who  on  that  mercy  calls ; 
Nay,  o'er  a  sinner  who  of  grace  hath  need, 
Who  strays,  and  then   returns,  when  conscience 

galls,- 

More  joys  there  are  o'er  him  in  realms  of  heaven, 
Than  ninety-nine  who  need  not  be  forgiven  !" 

Thus  man,  in  all  ages,  and  all  times,  goes  about  seek- 
ing an  antidote  for  the  fear  of  death.  The  Epicurean 
admitted  no  responsibility  for  actions  beyond  the  tomb ; 
the  Stoic  held  that  the  goal  of  life  is  death,  and  that  we 
live  but  to  learn  to  die;  the  Pythagorean  consoled  him- 
self with  the  idea  of  transmigration ;  and  the  methodists, 
not  content  with  the  philosophical  systems,  have  found 
out  a  still  more  eligible  way  of  getting  into  Paradise. 


16* 


186  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 


UNITARIANS. 


In  England  I  found  that  more  than  thirty  thousand 
persons  profess  this  doctrine,  and  openly  call  themselves 
Unitarians,  having1  for  the  last  forty  years  abandoned 
their  ancient  denomination  of  "Presbyterians." 

I  visited  one  of  their  places  of  worship,  when  I  heard 
the  whole  congregation  singing,  to  a  sweet  melody,  ac- 
companied by  the  organ,  the  following  verses  of  a  sacred 
hymn  by  Scott,  in  which  universal  toleration  is  recom- 
mended,— 

"  Who  among  men,  high  Lord  of  all, 
Thy  servant  to  his  bar  shall  call, 
For  modes  of  faith  judge  him  a  foe, 
And  doom  him  to  the  realms  of  woe  ! 
When  shall  our  happy  eyes  behold 
Thy  people  fashioned  in  thy  mould, 
And  Charity  our  lineage  prove 
Derived  from  Thee,  the  God  of  Love  ?" 

The  chapel  had  neither  paintings,  nor  gold  nor  silver, 
nor  ornaments  of  any  kind:  it  was  plain  but  decent. 
The  congregation  neatly  dressed,  were  collected  and  com- 
posed,  they  were  not  making  grimaces  or  ejaculations, 
squeezing  their  hands  or  rolling  their  eyes,  but  appeared 
attentive,  and  penetrated  with  the  divine  service  which 


IN  ENGLAND.  187 

was  then  performing.  The  priest  had  no  tonsure,  nor  any 
other  distinctive  mark  than  a  black  outer  vestment,  like 
a  gown.  lie  was  a  young  man  of  thirty,  genteelly  dressed 
in  black,  with  a  shirt  collar  and  cravat  of  the  nicest  white- 
ness. With  simple  and  serious  gestures,  in  a  natural 
tone  of  voice,  he  delivered  a  discourse,  which  lasted  three 
quarters  of  an  hour,  on  the  abolition  of  slavery,  a  subject 
which  often  comes  under  discussion  in  the  house  of  com- 
mons, the  slavery  of  the  negroes  in  the  English  West 
India  Colonies  not  being  yet  put  an  end  to.  He  laid  poli- 
tics aside,  and  treated  his  subject  exclusively  in  a  reli- 
gious point  of  view.  I  could  not  help  approving  this  kind 
of  preaching,  which,  in  place  of  affrighting  the  mind,  or 
irritating  the  passions,  accustoms  the  mind  to  reason, 
and  prepares  it  for  receiving  new  impressions,  and  for 
the  progress  of  civilisation.  Two  other  hymns  were 
sung,  the  minister  read  some  verses  of  the  Bible,  and  de- 
livered a  fervent  prayer  in  English,  and  the  congregation, 
after  about  an  hour  and  a  half's  devotional  exercise,  broke 
up. 

I  may  as  well  inform  those  who  come  to  visit  this 
island,  well  stored  and  well  pleased  with  the  good  sayings 
of  the  continent,  that  the  English  are  intolerant  of  all 
atheists,  all  deists  and  all  infidels.  Not  that  they  im- 
prison and  burn  them  (for  they  would  not  burn  even  the 
giants  who  warred  against  Jove,)  but  they  feel  a  horror, 
or  at  least  affect  to  feel  it,  at  scepticism,  which  they  call 
by  a  term  we  apply  only  to  a  very  profane  thing — infidel- 
ity, and  display  the  same  horror  at  the  slightest  jest  on 
religion.  That  which  might  pass  for  a  joke  before  an 
archbishop  in  Italy,  or  a  father  inquisitor  in  Spain,  would 
not  be  tolerated  in  England,  even  after  the  emptying  of  a 
couple  of  bottles  of  Port.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  since  the 
persecutions  of  1793,  the  house  of  no  dissenter  has  been 
burnt  or  plundered ;  opinions,  thanks  to  education,  have 


188  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

become  milder  and  less  acrimonious ;  but  such  is  the  bad 
odour  in  which  the  English  hold  an  unbeliever,  that  it  is 
almost  equivalent  to  the  Roman  punishment  of  interdic- 
tion from  fire  and  water,  it  is  more  than  a  Papal  excom- 
munication, because  public  opinion  supports  it;  the 
greater  part  of  the  English  fly  his  society.  What  Burke 
says  in  his  "  Observations  on  the  French  Revolution," 
about  the  veneration  the  English  nobility  always  profess 
for  religion,  is  quite  true.  From  Bolingbroke  downwards 
it  was  perhaps  only  Lord  Byron  (among  the  nobles)  who 
dared  to  direct  sarcasms  against  religion,  and  he  encoun- 
tered censure  on  every  side.  Bentham  and  Godwin,  both 
of  them  commoners,  have  suffered  it  to  transpire  in 
their  works  that  they  are  deists,  and  for  that  reason  do 
not  enjoy  that  popular  esteem  in  their  own  country  which 
their  works  deserve.  There  are  many  more  who  think 
like  Bentham,  but  they  are  as  cautious  as  Cicero's  augurs 
when  they  met  in  the  streets  of  Rome  ;  I  would  wager 
that  Voltaire  is  more  read  in  Spain  alone  than  in  the  three 
kingdoms  of  Great  Britain ;  but  not  to  mention  Voltaire, 
Diderot,  or  Helvetius,  I  have  never  heard  even  D'Alem- 
bert  once  named,  or  any  other  of  the  philosophical  deists 
of  the  last  century,  not  even  Rousseau. 

The  works  of  the  French  philosophers  are  only  read,  or 
at  any  rate  quoted,  by  the  writer  sin  the  literary  journals, 
who,  like  the  Egyptian  priests  of  old,  possess,  exclusively, 
the  secret  of  this  occult  philosophy,  and  now  and  then 
condescend  to  quote  the  proscribed  authors,  only  by  way 
of  showing  that  they  can  masticate  the  deadly  poison 
without  danger,  as  empirics  in  Asia  eat  serpents  without 
injury.  In  short,  this  aversion  is  so  strong,  (and,  it 
may  be  said,  so  universally  sincere,)  that  in  spite  of  the 
liberty  of  the  press,  no  one  thinks  of  printing  irreligious 
publications,  because  he  would  be  sure  to  find  few  or  no 
readers,  and  to  gain  nothing  but  contempt.  If  there 


IN  ENGLAND.  189 

were  readers  of  this  kind,  speculators  on  the  taste  would 
not  long  be  wanting-.  Three  years  ago,  an  ordained 
priest  of  the  church  of  England,  Taylor  by  name,  con- 
trived to  collect  together  in  London  a  society  of  fifty 
persons,  whose  object  was  to  discuss  the  existence  or 
non-existence  of  Revelation :  one  evening  the  subject  for 
discussion  was,  "  The  falsehood  of  all  religions,  except 
that  of  his  majesty  the  king  of  England."  But  schisms 
soon  arose,  and  disputes  were  decided  by  raps  on  the 
head  with  bibles  or  benches,  and  the  society  was  broken 
up  by  the  magistrates.  Mr.  Taylor  is  under  prosecu- 
tion on  a  charge  of  blasphemy.  If  the  founder  and  the 
audience  had  been  more  respectable,  the  society  would 
not  have  kept  together  for  the  two  years  it  did  :  but  its 
own  absurdity  rendered  it  harmless. 

The  Unitarians  have  not  long  had  a  legal  existence, 
or  a  public  worship  under  that  title,  in  England.  In  the 
time  of  William  and  Mary,  unitarianism  was  still  more 
abhorred  by  the  dominant  church  than  now,  and  was 
more  decidedly  held  to  be  profanity  and  atheism :  but 
by  little  and  little  this  hatred  has  grown  cool,  and 
unitarianism,  after  the  occurrences  and  the  last  burst  of 
intolerance  in  1791,  became  so  much  respected,  that  the 
people  are  continually  electing  professors  of  that  creed 
to  represent  them  in  the  house  of  commons,  for  instance, 
Messrs.  Smith,  Marshall,  Wood,  &c. 

The  sect  is  ancient,  and  traces  its  descent  from  the 
puritans,  who  first  began  to  make  a  noise  in  the  reign 
of  Mary ;  but  the  first  chapel  the  Unitarians  had  (under 
this  new  name,  which  of  itself  shows  the  increase  of 
courage  in  the  sect,  and  tolerance  in  the  government  and 
people)  was  in  Essex-street,  London,  in  1774.  What 
principally  contributed  to  the  public  establishment  of 
their  worship,  was  the  learning,  the  intrepidity,  the  fame 
of  a  man  who  is  better  known  to  us  by  his  discoveries 


190  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

in  physics, — Dr.  Joseph  Priestley,  of  whom  the  Unita- 
rians are  with  reason  proud,  as  one  of  their  warmest 
partisans. 

I  read,  with  much  pleasure,  the  memoirs  of  this  dis- 
senting minister,  erudite  theologian,  celebrated  chemist, 
and  ardent  friend  of  liberty  and  Franklin,  written  by 
himself,  in  a  stile  exceedingly  simple.  He  was  born  in 
1733,  at  Fieldhead,  six  miles  from  Leeds,  in  the  county 
of  York.  He  was  one  of  the  warmest  champions  of  the 
Unitarian  sect  and  of  freedom ;  for  both  these  reasons 
he  suffered,  in  his  native  country,  the  bitterest  persecu- 
tion. Many  writers  attacked  him,  with  all  the  gall  that 
is  ever  manifested  in  theological  discussions.  Although 
he  wrote  against  scepticism,  although  he  printed  works 
on  the  evidences  of  the  Christian  religion,  he  was  abused 
and  maltreated  as  an  atheist.  While  some  of  his  friends 
were  celebrating  the  anniversary  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, at  Birmingham  (the  14th  of  July  1791,)  a  handful 
of  rabble,  incited  by  some  of  the  persons  in  power,  burnt 
the  unitarian  chapel  in  which  he  used  to  preach,  another 
Unitarian  meeting  in  the  town,  and  his  house,  together 
with  his  library  and  chemical  apparatus.  The  same 
mob  destroyed  the  houses  of  many  other  dissenters,  his 
friends.  To  moderate  the  joy  which  the  father  inquisi- 
tors might  feel  on  hearing  the  narrative  of  these  confla- 
grations, it  is  necessary  to  add,  that  they  were  kindled 
more  by  the  political  fury  which  was  at  that  time  excited 
by  the  government,  than  by  any  spirit  of  intolerance. 
Priestley  was  forced  to  take  refuge  in  London,  in  dis- 
guise, and  remained  for  some  time  concealed  in  the 
house  of  a  friend.  For  the  same  reasons  he  was  obliged 
to  withdraw  from  the  Royal  Society  of  London,  of  which 
he  was  a  member,  to  avoid  an  ill  reception  from  many 
of  his  colleagues.  Finally  on  the  8th  of  April  1794,  at 
the  age  of  sixty-two,  in  order  to  escape,  once  for  all, 


IN  ENGLAND.  191 

from  persecution,  he  abandoned  England,  and  went,  with 
his  family,  to  settle  in  the  town  of  Northumberland, 
Pennsylvania,  in  the  United  States  of  America.  Foreign- 
ers, by  their  esteem  diid  affection,  repaid  him  for  the  in- 
justice of  his  countrymen :  the  national  assembly  of 
France  constituted  him  a  French  citizen ;  and  several 
departments  of  the  republic,  when  the  convention  was 
established,  invited  him  to  become  their  representative. 
The  convention,  in  the  sequel,  conferred  the  honour  of 
citizenship  on  his  son,  and  offered  him  the  same ;  but  it 
was  declined  by  both.  Arrived  in  America,  he  was 
visited  and  honoured  by  persons  of  high  distinction,  the 
professorship  of  chemistry  in  the  University  of  Pennsyl- 
vania was  offered  him,  numbers  became  followers  of  his 
religious  doctrines, — and  he  could  freely,  openly,  and 
tranquilly  make  his  profession  of  unitarianism.  This 
sect  in  England  generously  assisted  him  with  money  in 
all  his  vicissitudes.  It  is  worthy  of  observation,  that 
while  Sheridan,  many  years  afterwards  conspicuous  for 
political  eloquence  and  his  comic  genius,  was  abandoned, 
by  his  friends  and  his  party,  in  extreme  indigence  and 
misery  two  days  before  his  death,  Priestley  was  always 
affluent,  through  the  liberality  of  his  fellow-sectarians; — 
such  is  the  difference  between  political  and  religious 
fanaticism  ! 

From  the  persecution  endured  by  Dr.  Priestley  (which 
I  have  given  an  account  of  for  that  purpose,)  and  from 
those  which  the  catholics  continually  suffer  in  Ireland 
from  the  Orangemen,  it  may  safely  be  inferred,  that  in 
England  religious  liberty  is  not  so  solid  and  inviolable  as 
in  Holland,  or  the  United  States  of  America. 

Dr.  Priestley  held  the  doctrine  of  necessity ;  that  is,  that 
every  thing  is  for  the  best.  This  Panglossian  philosophy 
kept  him  firm,  ready,  and  intrepid,  through  all  the  trials 
of  life.  He  died  in  America,  in  1804,  at  the  age  of  72. 


192  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

From  the  emigration  of  Dr.  Priestley  the  sect  has  gone 
on  augmenting  in  numbers  to  such  a  degree,  that  now, 
whether  from  the  mildness  of  the  times,  or  its  greater 
importance,  it  is  no  longer  persecuted,  except  from  the 
pulpit.  It  numbers  between  thirty  and  forty  thousand 
followers.  The  church  of  England  is  an  ally  of  mo- 
narchy, and  preaches  from  time  to  time  the  doctrine  of 
passive  obedience  and  divine  right,  (which  the  king  of 
England  himself  does  not  pretend  to,)  as  in  the  reign  of 
the  Stuarts,  its  adulation  towards  the  king  and  the  min- 
isters goes  sometimes  to  an  extreme, — while  the  unita- 
rian  ministers  are  in  favour  of  a  liberal  mixed  government 
of  king,  lords,  and  commons;  and,  without  desiring  a  re- 
public, are  for  the  maximum  of  liberty  compatible  with 
the  order  and  dignity  of  the  government.  All  the  uni- 
tarian  members  of  parliament  speak  and  act  according 
to  this  way  of  thinking. 

This  sect  is  not  anxious  to  make  proselytes, — and  it 
makes  few  among  the  poor,  because  they  are  ignorant, 
and  few  among  the  rich,  because  they  are  in  general 
servile  to  the  powers  that  be,  or  negligent  in  the  exami- 
nation of  the  doctrine  they  profess. 

The  chapels  of  the  Unitarians  are  generally  to  be  found 
in  towns,  and  especially  manufacturing  towns.  The 
rural  production  almost  entirely  follow  the  church  of 
England.  They  have  neither  the  time  nor  opportunity 
to  examine,  nor  the  resolution  to  separate  from,  the  re- 
ligion of  their  masters.  Freedom  of  thought  is  cherished, 
animated,  and  protected  in  the  towns  :  they  swarm  with 
dissenters  of  every  creed,  while  in  the  country  the 
tapering  spires  or  gothic  towers  of  the  churches  are  seen 
rising  every  where  without  a  rival,  in  the  commercial 
towns  the  dissenting  chapels  (which  cannot  have  steeples) 
are  met  at  every  step.  The  English  towns  are  now  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  J  93 

native  land  of  every  species  of  liberty,  political,  religious, 
or  commercial. 

In  the  town  of  Birmingham,  fourteen  thousand  boys 
and  girls  of  the  lowest  orders  are  taught  reading,  writing, 
and  arithmetic,  in  gratuitous  schools;  2400  of  these  belong 
to  the  church  of  England,  and  the  remaining  11,600  to 
various  sects  of  dissenters. 

There  are  more  than  eighty  Unitarian  chapels  in  Eng- 
land and  Wales :  let  it  be  added,  that  in  the  United 
States  of  America  they  are  still  more  numerous,  and  that 
they  begin  even  to  scatter  themselves  over  the  East  In- 
dies, where  one  of  the  rich  Brahmins,  (Rammohun  Roy,) 
by  the  mere  perusal  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  hav- 
ing, by  himself  alone,  become  converted  to  the  Unitarian 
faith,  is  now,  by  his  writings  and  influence,  making  pro- 
selytes in  Calcutta,  among  the  idolaters :  to  which  end  he 
still  preserves  the  title  and  habit  of  a  Brahmin.  As  to  the 
opinion  of  Voltaire,  that  our  times  are  no  longer  favoura- 
ble to  new  religions, — of  the  twenty  other  sects  which 
have  arisen  since  Voltaire  wrote  his  treatise  on  Socinus,  I 
will  here  only  make  mention  of  the  methodists,  who  now 
amount,  in  England,  to  more  than  a  million,  and  are  still 
more  numerous  in  America. 


17 


194  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 


METHODISTS,  RANTERS,  AND  JUMPERS. 


When  Voltaire  hazarded  that  opinion  of  his,  he  had  not 
reflected  that  the  free  inquiry  which  is  the  foundation  of 
the  Protestant  religion,  will  be  a  perennial  fountain  of 
new  opinions,  to  which  piety  and  ambition  will  give  chiefs 
and  followers.  Man  is  an  ape;  when  he  is  a  slave,  he 
does  nothing-  but  imitate  ;  but  when  his  mind  is  free,  it 
is  not  content  with  copying,  but  goes  in  search  of  variety, 
of  novelty,  nay,  even  of  extravagance;  and  delights  in  ar- 
riving at  the  same  end,  by  a  hundred  different  ways.  In 
politics,  how  many  kinds  of  government  have  nations  in- 
vented when  they  were  masters  of  the  selection !  How 
many  different  republics  were  there  in  Magna  Grecia, 
and  in  Greece,  before  the  time  of  Aristotle  !  How  many 
different  forms  still  were  there  in  Italy,  in  the  middle 
ages  !  How  many  different  constitutions  are  there  every 
day  in  Switzerland !  All  had  liberty  for  their  aim,  but 
each  chose  a  different  way  of  obtaining  it.  Thus,  in 
literature,  the  aim  is  the  beautiful  and  the  pleasing,  but 
by  how  many  different  paths  does  it  arrive  at  them !  Uni- 
formity, unanimity,  is,  in  general,  only  the  effect  of  op- 
pression and  despotism,  which  draws  up,  modifies,  and 
arranges,  all  brains  into  one  mould,  in  the  same  manner 
as  bricks  and  tiles. 

To  make  oneself  the  founder  of  a  sect,  is  not  an  enter- 


IN  ENGLAND.  195 

prise  so  very  arduous.  Three  or  four  students  unite  to- 
gether at  the  University  of  Oxford,  to  read  the  Old  and 
New  Testament  methodically :  they  draw  from  them 
some  interpretations  likely  to  captivate  the  mind  of  the 
rude  multitude,  such  as  "instantaneous  conversion," 
"  sudden  reconciliation  of  the  sinner  with  God," — a  sono- 
rous voice,  a  little  eloquence,  insinuating  manners,  some 
charity,  some  virtues,  and  in  the  beginning,  some  exag- 
geration and  some  quackery,  to  catch  the  weak  minded, 
— these  are  the  means  of  very  soon  drawing  together  a 
crowd  of  proselytes.  The  new  principles  are  first 
broached  in  the  churches, — if  they  encounter  some  oppo- 
sition there,  the  preachers  go  out  into  the  fields,  in  the 
open  air,  and  expound  with  all  their  might  and  main : 
the  rudest  and  most  uncultivated  parts  of  the  population 
are  selected,  such  as  the  coal,  tin,  and  iron  miners,  &c. 
This  is  an  abridgment  of  the  history  ofWhitfield  and  the 
two  brothers  Wesley,  founders  of  the  sect  now  called 
Methodists,  from  the  strict  method  they  pursued  in  their 
studies  at  the  University  of  Oxford,  about  the  year  1740. 
Scarcely,  however,  was  the  new  sect  of  methodists 
founded,  before  it  divided  into  several  sects,  into  New 
Methodists,  Ranters,  and  Jumpers.  The  arithmetic  of 
sects,  says  an  English  theologian,  proceeds  from  multi- 
plication to  division.  The  methodists,  properly  so  called , 
and  the  new  methodists,  who  compose  the  greater  part 
of  these  sectarians,  differ  little,  or  not  at  all,  in  their  car- 
dinal maxims,  from  the  church  of  England.  The  ran- 
ters and  jumpers  are,  however,  to  say  the  truth,  a  little 
extravagant  in  their  ceremonies.  I  wished  to  see  the 
jumpers ;  they  are  accustomed  to  jump,  at  the  same  time 
singing,  "  Glory,  Glory,"  until  their  strength  failing,  they 
fall  on  the  ground.  The  most  robust  are  the  most  meri- 
torious. This  new  kind  of  Pantomimists  I  should  have 
liked  to  see, — but  their  congregations  are  in  Wales,  which 


196  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

I  have  not  yet  visited.  I  was  therefore  obliged  to  con- 
tent myself  with  the  sight  of  a  religious  festival  of  another 
branch  of  the  extravagant  methodists  called  Ranters.  It 
was  the  month  of  May,  the  love  feast  was  celebrating, 
that  is,  the  communion  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  or  the  cor- 
responding communion  of  the  sect.  The  ranters  have 
no  priests,  those  among  them  who  are  the  least  clownish, 
and  the  boldest  in  public  speaking,  take  the  part  of  min- 
isters. The  form  of  the  communion  consists  in  the  handing 
of  pieces  of  bun  to  every  one,  by  a  servant  of  the  chapel. 
On  this  day  the  ranters  relate  in  a  loud  voice  the  me- 
thod of  their  conversion,  which  they  call  "  new  birth  ;" 
one  after  another  they  get  up  as  if  influenced  by  the  spi- 
rit to  tell  the  day,  the  month,  the  year,  the  hour  in  which 
their  conversion  was  effected.  They  begin  softly,  and  in 
their  natural  voice,  then,  as  if  some  unseen  spirit  had  en- 
tered into  [them,  go  on  rolling  their  eyes  and  elevating 
their  voice  in  such  a  crescendo,  that  it  rather  affrights 
than  edifies.  If  the  reign  of  the  devil  inpropria  persona 
were  not  at  an  end,  I  should  have  thought  them  possessed. 
I  had  one  near  me  with  a  voice  like  a  cathedral  bell,  and 
who  moved  his  arms  about  as  much  as  a  wind-mill.  Even 
the  ladies  displayed  their  eloquence,  and  their  inspiration : 
this  cackling  and  howling  continued  for  two  hours.  I 
went  out  confounded,  but  thought  nevertheless  that  all 
this  bellowing  might  be  sincere,  because,  their  imagina- 
tions being  predisposed,  the  examples  of  the  others,  and 
the  presence  of  the  public,  may  operate  to  inflame  their 
enthusiasm  to  this  pitch.  The  following  day  the  congre- 
gation went  singing  hymns  by  the  way,  to  an  open  field, 
— and  here  the  orators  had  an  oportunity  of  satiating 
their  mania  for  eloquence.  One  of  them  preached  on  his 
return  in  Nottingham  market-place  for  three  hours,  sur- 
rounded by  an  immense  multitude :  the  others  mean- 
while did  what  they  wanted,  as  if  he  were  preaching  in 


IN  ENGLAND.  197 

the  desert.     By  good  luck   this   love-feast  recurs  only 
once  a  year. 

But  is  not  all  this  miscellany  of  religious  creeds  an  evil, 
a  scandal,  at  least  a  disorder  ?  "  No,"  one  day  said  to 
me  a  polished  and  handsome  lady,  who  was  devout  through 
conviction, "  I  believe  that  this  diversity  of  opinions  is  not 
an  evil ;  that  it  stimulates  emulation,  and  keeps  up  the 
flame  of  love  for  religion,  and  that  without  it  we  should 
probably  relapse  into  indifference.  It  is  evident,  that 
even  in  this  the  liberty  of  thinking  is  conformable  to  the 
ends  of  Providence."  "  I  concede  it,  but  does  it  not  pro- 
duce theological  disputes  and  wars  ?"  "  Discussions  it  does," 
rejoined  she,  "  but  not  wars.  And  discussions,  when  they 
are  learnedly  and  liberally  sustained,  on  both  sides,  keep 
minds  in  activity,  and  promote  the  spirit  of  search  and 
analysis."  "  I  concede  even  this,  but  at  least  you  will 
agree,  madam,  that  this  variety  of  sects  tends  to  render 
them  divided,  and  odious  to  each  other."  "  I  cannot  en- 
tirely deny  what  you  advance,  but  if,  in  one  point  of  view, 
it  promotes  division,  in  the  other  it  makes  each  of  them 
more  circumspect  in  conduct,  and  induces  those  of  the 
same  sect  to  assist  one  another  with  greater  warmth,  and 
to  keep  up  a  rivalry  in  well  informed  ministers,  and 
above  all,  in  gratuitous  schools  for  poor  children,  and  col- 
leges for  the  youth  of  the  respectable  classes.  For  exam- 
ple, when  the  Quaker  Lancaster  had  discovered  and  dif- 
fused his  method  of  mutual  instruction,  the  church  of 
England  was  constrained  to  invent  and  adopt  a  system 
almost  similar  to  that  of  Bell,  and  vice  versa,  the  Sunday 
schools  for  poor  children  being  first  established  in  the 
church,  the  dissenters,  not  to  be  behind  hand  in  the  work 
of  charitable  instruction,  eagerly  set  up  Sunday  schools 
for  the  children  of  their  own  persuasion.  Thus  you  see, 
the  good  effects  of  this  rivalry  are  much  greater  than  the 
bad."  "  It  appears  to  me,  madam,  that  you  are  very  well 
17* 


198  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

prepared  for  these  discussions;  but  pray  does  not  govern- 
ment lose  some  of  its  power  by  this  multiplicity  of  discor- 
dant opinions  ?"  Here  the  lady  cast  down  her  eyes,  and 
went  on  with  the  landscape  she  was  drawing1  as  a  keep- 
sake for  a  female  friend,  suspending*  the  argument  on  her 
side,  because  the  English  ladies  never  enter  into  political 
disputes.  In  her  place,  a  gentleman,  who,  while  reading 
the  newspaper,  had  heard  our  discussion,  took  up  the 
conversation  by  observing,  "  If  the  hand  of  government  is 
not  so  strong,  the  danger  of  its  despotism  is  the  less  : 
you  must  be  aware  that  the  dissenters  were  the  champi- 
ons of  the  revolution  under  Charles  the  First.  But  we 
will  leave  those  strong  times  to  themselves,  and  speak  of 
other  advantages  procured  by  them,  without  fanaticism 
and  without  bloodshed.  To  the  multiplication  of  sects 
we  are  indebted  for  many  changes  favourable  to  liberty, 
both  religious  and  political.  It  is  to  their  perseverance 
and  the  increase  of  their  number,  that  we  owe  the  almost 
total  destruction  of  the  doctrine  of  the  divine  right  of 
kings  and  bishops,  which,  one  hundred  and  fifty  years 
ago,  under  Charles  the  Second  and  James  the  Second, 
was  stoutly  maintained  by  the  greater  part  of  the  members 
of  the  church  of  England.  It  is  also  a  consequence  of 
the  sects  having  become  powerful,  in  numbers,  in  learned 
men,  in  wealth,  and  in  illustrious  examples,  that  the  low- 
er orders  of  the  people  are  no  longer  the  close  allies  of  the 
church  they  were  in  the  reigns  of  the  two  first  Georges, 
when  they  were  always  ready,  at  the  slightest  signal  from 
the  clergy  and  the  country  justices,  to  throw  themselves 
on  the  nonconformists,  and  level  their  conventicles  with 
the  ground.  The  people  is  no  longer  the  leviathan,  the 
ferocious  beast  in  whose  form  Hobbes  personified  it,  ready 
for  violence,  and  furious  when  its  master  gave  the  signal. 
Now  the  lower  classes  ask  for  reason  before  they  act. 
Many  ecclesiastical  abuses  have  been  exposed  to  their 


IN  ENGLAND.  1  99 

view,  and  many  religious  errors  of  the  church  trium- 
phantly confuted,  and  now  they  are  ashamed  of  being,  as 
they  once  were,  held  in  vassalage  by  the  church,  and 
obliged  to  take  the  field  at  the  cry  l  The  church  is  in 
danger  !'  This  is  the  point  of  view  in  which  the  sects 
ought  to  be  regarded,  and  not  in  that  of  the  theological 
disputations  between  them  and  the  church,  or  the  cere- 
monies and  ridiculous  rites  of  some  of  them."  Here  the 
lady,  leaving  off  her  sketching,  and  holding  the  pencil 
with  infinite  grace  between  her  fingers,  asked  me  if  I  had 
never  seen  the  baptismal  ceremony  of  the  sect  called 
"  Baptists."  I  told  her,  no ;  and  then  she  added,  "  If  you 
go  to  morrow  at  eleven  o'clock  to  the  Baptist  meeting- 
house, you  will  see  the  baptism  of  several  young  persons, 
which  is  then  to  be  celebrated ;  go,  but  be  serious."  The 
next  morning  I  failed  not  to  follow  the  advice  of  my 
lovely  devotee,  and,  exactly  at  eleven  o'clock,  entered  a 
little,  neat,  and  commodious  chapel,  holding  not  more 
than  four  or  five  hundred  persons,  which  was  that  belong- 
ing to  the  Baptists,  who  do  not  like  to  be  called  Anabap- 
tists. 


200  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 


BAPTISTS. 


The  service  commenced  with  the  singing  of  some 
hymns,  appropriate  to  the  ceremony  :  then  the  minister 
made,  or  at  any  rate,  recited  impromptu  a  comment  on  the 
passage  of  the  New  Testament  relating  to  the  baptism 
of  Christ  in  the  river  Jordan.  He  insisted  principally 
on  the  point,  that  the  words  of  Jesus,  and  the  example 
set  by  him,  and  followed  by  others  in  the  gospel,  were 
much  to  be  preferred  to  human  inventions  (by  which  he 
meant  the  common  form  of  baptism).  If  the  premises 
were  admitted,  the  inference  would  be  just.  So  con- 
vincing did  the  reasons  he  gave  appear  to  the  preacher, 
that  he  could  not  help  advancing  and  pressing  on  in  his 
discourse,  as  a  general  vigorously  presses  on  the  rear  of 
a  flying  enemy.  I  was  not  so  much  astonished  at  his 
persuasion  that  he  had  decided,  without  appeal,  the 
question,  whether  a  man  ought  to  have  his  head  only 
immersed  in  the  water,  or  enter  altogether  into  it, — as 
in  some  degree  mortified,  at  hearing  myself  told,  by  im- 
plication, that  I  was  "  ill  baptized."  No  matter — I  re- 
membered I  was  in  a  land  of  toleration,  and  within  my- 
self forgave  the  preacher  the  involuntary  affront.  After 
the  sermon,  and  after  some  more  hymns  had  been  sung, 
the  proselytes  who  were  to  receive  the  ordinance,  filed 
off  into  the  adjoining  rooms  to  strip.  It  is,  of  course, 


IN  ENGLAND.  201 

necessary  that  the  baptist  chapels  should  be  built  like 
bathing  houses.  In  fact,  there  was  an  ample  cistern  of 
water  in  front  of  the  pulpit,  about  four  feet  deep,  with 
steps  to  ascend  and  descend.  Adjoining  the  chapel,  be- 
hind the  pulpit,  are  two  rooms  for  dressing  and  undress- 
ing, one  for  the  women,  and  one  for  the  men.  There 
were  five  young  women  to  be  baptized,  between  the 
ages  of  eighteen  and  twenty.  They  came  out  dressed 
in  a-white  habit,  tied  round  the  neck,  with  a  large  white 
coif  on  their  heads.  These  descended  the  steps  one  at 
a  time,  and  placed  themselves  before  the  priest,  who 
stood  immersed  to  above  the  knee  in  the  water,  in  this 
representative  of  the  Jordan,  enveloped  in  a  large  black 
gown.  The  minister  pronounced  in  English,  before  the 
young  woman  also  immersed  in  the  water,  the  words,  "  I 
baptize  thee  in  the  name,"  &c.  &c.;  and,  as  soon  as  he  had 
uttered  these  words,  plunged  the  poor  young  woman 
entirely  into  the  water.  After  some  splashing,  she 
was  quickly  lifted  up  again,  and  immediately  taken 
away  to  be  dried  and  dressed.  Some  of  them,  choked 
by  the  water,  set  up  a  shriek  in  the  very  act  of  being 
ducked.  Not  so  a  young  man,  who  was  baptized  in  the 
same  style  :  of  the  age,  perhaps,  of  about  twenty-five, 
black  bearded,  with  none  of  his  clothes  off,  but  in  his 
coat,  trowsers,  waistcoat,  and  shoes,  he  entered  as  he 
was  into  the  cistern ;  and,  as  one  accustomed  to  swim 
across  a  river,  underwent  the  ceremony  as  if  it  were  a 
mere  wash. 

For  myself,  I  can  only  say  that  it  was  terribly  hot  in 
this  crowded  little  chapel,  being  the  first  of  June ;  and 
that  the  heat,  more  than  anything  else,  convinced  me 
that  the  baptists  have  special  good  reason  on  their  side 
in  the  summer.  I  was  told,  however,  that  many  mem- 
bers of  the  sect,  not  liking  the  ceremony  either  in  sum- 
mer or  winter,  neglect  receiving  baptism  altogether; 


202  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

which,  with  these  sectaries,  is  not  a  sacrament,  or  an 
essential  right,  but  merely  an  explicit  declaration  (made 
at  the  age  when  a  man  knows  what  he  is  doing)  that  he 
enters  into  the  communion  of  Christians.  From  the 
book  of  Dr.  Evans  it  appears  that  some  of  the  baptists, 
in  order  to  be  more  consistent,  and  to  follow  the  gospel 
with  the  utmost  possible  exactness,  instead  of  celebrating 
baptism  in  the  artificial  Jordan,  go  to  the  banks  of  a 
real  and  actual  river,  and  there  dip  themselves  with  all 
the  precision  imaginable. 


IN  ENGLAND.  203 


QUAKERS. 


The  banker,  Fry,  a  rich  quaker  of  London,  and  a 
man  extremely  courteous  to  all  the  foreigners  who  have 
recommendations  to  him,  the  first  day  I  made  his  ac- 
quaintance, invited  me  to  dine  with  him  at  his  brother 
in  law's,  Mr.  Buxton,  the  member  of  parliament,  and 
told  me  to  ask  for  him,  in  order  that  he  might  present 
me  to  our  host.  At  six  o'clock  precisely,  I  give  a  sono- 
rous knock  at  the  door  of  Mr.  Buxton's  house  ;  the  ser- 
vant, thinking  me  one  of  the  guests,  opens  the  door,  and 
shows  me  the  way  to  the  dining  room,  and  I,  believing 
it  so  arranged  by  Mr.  Fry,  enter  with  all  confidence  and 
intrepidity  ;  when,  behold  !  I  find  myself  in  the  midst  of 
a  great  number  of  guests  at  table,  with  no  Mr.  Fry  to 
be  seen.  Such  a  mishap  might  disconcert  any  body,  and 
especially  one  who  spoke  English  rather  ill,  and  yet 
ought  by  rights  to  justify,  by  the  finest  phrases  of  the 
Galateo,  his  extemporaneous  appearance  among  unknown 
and  astonished  individuals.  But  what  would  not  his 
surprise  have  been  at  finding  himself,  as  I  did,  in  the 
midst  of  the  smoke  of  the  viands,  and  several  blazing 
candles,  in  the  presence  of  a  number  of  ladies,  uniform- 
ly dressed,  after  the  fashion  of  nuns,  with  handkerchiefs 
like  the  tuckers  they  wear,  with  countenances  smooth 
as  mirrors,  untouched  by  the  passions,  and  of  four  men, 
with  their  faces  covered  with  paint,  great  rings  dangling 


204  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

from  their  ears,  others  still  larger  from  their  noses,  and 
a  dress  of  many  colours,  covered  all  over  with  chains 
and  Spanish  dollars  ?  But  there  was  no  time  to  turn  an 
absolute  statue  for  astonishment, — for  these  gentle  ladies, 
with  a  smile  still  more  sweet  than  that  which  is  usually 
seen  on  the  countenances  of  Englishwomen,  and  man- 
ner still  more  familiar,  invited  me,  each  more  pressingly 
than  another,  to  seat  myself  at  table.  Had  I  been  in 
Italy,  I  should  have  believed  the  party  some  pleasant 
masquerade ;  but  in  England,  truly  I  could  not  guess 
what  it  could  possibly  be.  While  I  was  guessing  where 
I  could  have  got  to,  acknowledging  the  many  kind  offers 
of  the  ladies,  and  eyeing  those  four  kings  of  cards  sort 
of  faces,  Mr.  Fry  arrived  and  explained  the  mistake 
which  the  guests  might  believe  I  had  committed :  and  it 
is  now  my  turn  to  explain  the  enigma  of  those  four  ex- 
traordinary table  companions.  The  gentlemen  who  had 
so  many  things  dangling  from  their  ears  and  noses,  were 
four  chiefs  of  Indian  tribes  in  Canada,  assuming  to 
themselves  the  title  of  kings,  who  had  arrived  a  short 
time  before  in  London,  to  complain  before  their  brother 
the  king  of  England,  of  some  unjust  proceedings  of  the 
governor  of  Canada ; — the  ladies  were  quakeresses,  and 
among  them  was  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Fry,  who,  to  bene- 
volence and  information,  unites  a  solemn,  peaceful,  and 
majestic  aspect.  This  is  the  somewhat  singular  manner 
in  which  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  this  lady-friend,* 
who,  as  is  well  known,  has,  by  her  example,  established 
a  society  of  missionaries,  who  preach  in  the  prisons  of 
the  women  in  confinement. 

Every  mystery  cleared  up,  and  legally  installed  at  the 

*  The  quakers  call  their  sect  u  The  Society  of  Friends."  I 
should  not  have  made  use  of  the  name  quaker,  which  in  English 
is  a  term  of  little  respect,  were  it  not  the  name  by  which  these 
sectaries  are  known  in  Italy. 


IN  ENGLAND.  205 

table,  I  took  part,  without  reserve,  in  the  general  good 
humour,  and,  having  discovered  that  the  four  kings 
talked  French  well  enough,  having  been  educated  by  the 
French  Jesuits,  of  whom  they  spoke  with  little  of  either 
respect  or  gratitude,  I  diverted  myself  exceedingly  by 
asking  them  no  fewer  questions  on  their  country  than 
the  syndic  of  the  city  did  Voltaire's  Huron.  When  din- 
ner was  ended,  when  the  procession  of  bottles  round  the 
tables  commences,  each  with  his  baptismal  name  in  sil- 
ver round  his  neck,  the  master  of  the  house  requested 
one  of  their  painted  majesties  to  explain  in  their  own 
language  (the  better  to  divert  us)  the  complaints  they 
were  to  carry  before  the  English  government.  The  most 
advanced  in  age  rose  up  with  much  complaisance,  and 
delivered  a  discourse,  which  an  interpreter,  who  travel- 
led along  with  them,  afterwards  translated  for  us.  The 
most  remarkable  thing  in  this  savage  harangue  was, 
that  they  were  very  much  surprised  that,  although  they 
had  been  a  month  in  London,  their  brother,  the  king  of 
England,  had  not  yet  given  them  audience.  Mr.  Bux- 
ton  then  took  up  the  discourse  in  English  (that  they  in 
their  turn  might  not  understand  a  word),  and  vindicated 
the  honour  of  his  government  by  saying,  that  perhaps 
the  multiplicity  of  affairs  had  till  now  hindered  it  from 
hearing  their  complaints,  but  that  it  would  not  delay 
doing  them  justice.  Let  not  this  formality  of  speech- 
making  appear  ridiculous,  because  it  is  the  national  cus- 
tom at  every  dinner  of  any  importance  to  follow  the 
forms  of  parliament.  As  almost  all  great  affairs  are 
carried  on  at  dinner,  it  was  necessary,  to  avoid  the  con- 
fusion and  uproar  that  would  otherwise  arise  during  the 
circulation  of  the  bottles,  to  adopt  parliamentary  usages. 
This  has  so  penetrated  into  their  most  familiar  habits, 
that  the  English  never  talk  all  together  in  chorus  (as 
they  do  in  certain  countries) ;  but,  amongst  them,  talk- 
18 


206  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

ing  one  after  another  is  a  thing  as  natural  in  a  discus- 
sion as  putting  out  one  leg  after  the  other  in  a  walk.  I 
must  here  observe,  by  the  by,  that  among  the  other  re- 
semblances (and  I  could  point  out  many,  were  this  the 
proper  place)  between  the  British  empire  and  the  an- 
cient Roman,  is  that  of  the  protection  which  the  mem- 
bers of  the  house  of  commons  or  English  senate  offer, 
with  a  laudable  pride,  to  individuals,  provinces,  and 
kings  of  all  the  world,  who  think  themselves  aggrieved. 
Thus  Mr.  Buxton  had  engaged,  with  the  assistance  of 
his  friends  in  parliament,  to  procure  the  reparation  of 
the  wrongs  of  these  four  Indian  caciques,  if  their  charges 
should  prove  well  founded.  Justice  is  not  always  done, 
nor  can  it  always  be  done,  in  the  English  parliament ; 
but  injustice  is  at  least  published  to  all  the  world,  by  the 
sound  of  the  trumpet.  How  many  kings  and  emperors, 
who  flattered  themselves  with  the  hope  of  concealing 
their  crimes  beneath  the  mantle  of  justice,  have  been 
there  unmasked  and  shown  to  all  their  contemporaries, 
with  the  dagger  in  their  hand  with  which  they  assassi- 
nated their  subjects ! 

The  politeness  of  these  caciques  was  extreme.  After 
tea,  without  waiting  for  much  asking,  they  sung  and 
danced  according  to  their  Indian  manner.  Although 
the  quakers  approve  of  neither  music  nor  dancing,  it 
seemed  to  me  as  if  the  friends  and  friendesses,  who 
were  there  present,  took  the  song  and  dance  of  these 
royal  personages  in  excellent  part,  though  the  former 
was  horrible  and  the  latter  frightful.  But  such  is  the 
sorcery  of  the  very  name  of  king,  that  had  there  been 
quakers  at  the  court  of  Leo  the  Second,*  even  they,  per- 
haps, would  have  found  the  howlings  of  his  Leonine 
majesty  most  harmonious. 

*  See  the  fable  of  the  Speaking  Animals  (Gli  Animali  Parlanti). 


IN  ENGLAND.  207 

At  eleven  the  party  broke  up.  Mr.  Fry  politely  invit- 
ing me  to  pass  the  night  at  his  country  house,  about  ten 
miles  distant  from  London :  I  entered  his  carriage  with 
much  pleasure,  and,  after  having  missed  the  road  two  or 
three  times  (for  the  coachman,  not  being  a  quaker,  did 
not  observe  the  sobriety  of  quakers),  at  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning  we  arrived  at  a  villa  which,  as  I  saw  next 
day,  had  all  the  cleanliness,  neatness,  and  order  (without 
any  useless  pomp  or  ornament),  which  are  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  sect. 

The  next  morning  I  had  an  opportunity  of  making 
the  acquaintance  of  all  the  family,  servants  and  servant 
maids  included ;  for,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
sect,  before  breakfast,  we  all  assembled  in  a  room  to  hear 
read  a  passage  from  the  Bible.  One  of  the  sons  accord- 
ingly read  to  us  some  part  of  Scripture,  I  now  forget 
what,  without  any  ceremony  or  prayer,  because  this 
sect  uses  no  prayers  of  any  kind,  even  at  their  meeting 
on  Sunday,  where  every  one  passes  two  hours  seated  in 
meditation  (I  do  not  know  on  what  subject).  As  acci- 
dent would  have  it,  this  was  the  day  on  which  Mrs.  Fry 
was  accustomed  to  preach  in  the  great  prison  of  London 
(Newgate);  I  asked  of  her  a  ticket  of  admission,  with 
her  signature,  and,  after  taking  leave  of  the  family,  flew 
along  to  London,  with  a  colt  in  a  stanhope,  at  the  rate 
of  fourteen  miles  an  hour,  and  soon  found  myself  at  the 
entrance  of  the  gloomy  prison  of  Newgate.  After  pass- 
ing through  five  or  six  well  ironed  doors,  I  was  intro- 
duced into  a  room  on  the  second  floor,  where  several 
English  and  foreign  travellers  were  already  assembled, 
in  some  distinct  seats  on  the  right  hand  side.  The  fame 
of  Mrs.  Fry,  the  novelty  of  the  institution,  and  the  curi- 
osity felt  by  Englishmen  to  see  in  London  what  they 
have  already  read  magnified  in  the  newspapers,  always 
draw  many  spectators  together  on  this  day.  The  most 


208  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

numerous  audience,  however,  is  composed  of  from  forty 
to  fifty  uniformly  and  decently  dressed  women,  who  are 
under  sentence  of  transportation.  Of  these  I  will  speak 
presently. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Fry  made  her  entrance,  with  a  coun- 
tenance of  serenity,  and  a  mien  naturally  majestic,  ac- 
companied by  two  other  quaker  females  as  aides-de-camp, 
and  took  her  seat  at  a  little  table  in  the  midst  of  the  room, 
on  which  lay  a  large  Bible,  with  the  gravity  of  an  arch- 
bishop. After  reading  some  verses  aloud  with  a  clear 
voice  and  distinct  pronunciation,  she  delivered  a  com- 
ment or  rather  a  sermon  upon  them,  which  from  its  sim- 
plicity contrasted  strongly  with  the  figurative  and  orien- 
tal style  of  the  text,  and  lasted  a  good  half  hour.  I  looked 
to  see  if  this  preaching  produced  any  effect  on  the  coun- 
tenances of  the  prisoners.  But  whether  it  was  that  the 
discourse  was  not  very  moving  (for  the  quakers  guard 
themselves  from  inflaming  the  passions,  even  the  virtuous 
ones,  and  their  countenances  bear  witness  of  it),  or  that 
the  hearts  of  these  prisoners  were  harder  than  the  bars 
of  their  prison,  I  did  not  discover  in  them  the  slightest 
sign  of  contrition — nay,  I  detected  some  who  were 
throwing  about  malicious  glances  in  an  almost  ironical 
smile.  A  disciple  of  Lavater  would  not  have  let  the  ob- 
servation escape  him  that  the  greater  part  of  these  had 
rather  puffed  up  faces,  round  and  prominent  eyes  and 
little  eyebrows,  which  aspect  in  young  persons  usually 
denotes  heedlessness  or  impudence.  A  great  number  of 
these  women  have  been  guilty  of  repeated  thefts,  and  are 
transported  to  Botany  Bay  for  seven  or  fourteen  years, 
and  some  even  for  life.  They  go  to  populate  that  im- 
mense island,  from  which  perhaps  will  spring  up  one 
day  another  valorous  race  of  Romans,  who  will  boast  of 
their  nobility  when  they  can  trace  their  descent,  without 
interruption  in  the  quarterings,  to  this  lofty  origin.  All 


*IN  ENGLAND.  209 

the  time  up  to  their  embarkation  they  are  under  the 
charge  of  some  of  the  quakeresses,  who  attend  to  cor- 
recting their  morals,  accustoming  them  to  work,  and 
preventing  quarrels  and  abuse  among  them.  Those  who 
conduct  themselves  best  are  recommended  to  the  cle- 
mency of  the  king,  and  the  product  of  their  labours, 
joined  to  the  alms  left  them  by  visiters,  serve  to  provide 
them  with  articles  of  dress  and  equipments  for  their 
voyage. 

When  the  prisoners  were  gone,  Mrs.  Fry  came  to  con- 
verse with  us,  and  told  us  that  she  had  received  letters 
from  Mexico  and  St.  Petersburgh,  which  informed  her 
that  some  ladies  of  those  two  capitals  had  followed  her 
example  with  good  success.  In  England  other  quaker 
ladies,  imitating  the  example  of  Mrs.  Fry,  discharge  the 
same  pious  mission  in  various  of  the  prisons.  Many, 
however,  doubt  if  such  proceedings,  instead  of  improving 
and  correcting  the  prisoners,  will  make  any  thing  of 
them  but  hypocrites.  I  myself  took  the  trouble  to  ask 
the  opinion  of  several  sensible  jailers,  and  found  they 
also  believed  they  would  lead  to  nothing  but  hypocrisy. 
But  is  not  even  feigned  repentance  (supposing  it  feigned) 
always  better  than  the  impudent  triumph  of  crime  ?  And 
if  the  good  are  preached  to  that  they  may  become  better, 
is  it  not  still  more  natural  that  the  bad  should  be  preached 
to  that  they  may  become  good  ?  In  fact  the  minister  Peel, 
who  understands  these  matters  very  well,  and  has  super- 
intended for  many  years  the  discipline  of  the  prisons,  has 
always,  instead  of  opposing  obstacles  to  the  practice  as 
prejudicial,  been  liberal  of  his  patronage  to  Mrs.  Fry. 

This  then  is  the  way  in  which  Mrs.  Fry,  disdaining 
the  idleness  her  riches  offered  for  her  acceptance,  has 
succeeded  in  discovering  an  occupation  which  does  hon- 
our to  her  heart,  and  has  for  its  object  the  amelioration 
of  the  condition  of  individuals  and  of  society.  This  is 


210  THE  ITALIAN  EXft,E 

the  way  that  the  quakers,  in  spite  of  their  dark  coats 
without  metal  buttons,  of  their  broad  brimmed  hats,  and 
of  some  customs  in  speaking,  which  are,  to  say  the  truth, 
a  little  strange,  have  supported  themselves  against  the 
ridicule  which  overwhelms  so  many,  by  searching  for 
every  method  of  becoming  useful  to  their  fellow  crea- 
tures. They  united,  they  spoke,  they  acted  with  the 
philanthropists  who  procured  the  abolition  of  the  slave 
trade.  At  the  present  day,  they  never  cease  striving  for 
the  entire  abolition  of  the  slavery  in  the  English  colonies 
in  America.  Many  of  them  use  East  Indian  sugar  in 
their  families,  though  much  dearer  than  the  other,  to 
discredit  and  cheapen  the  West  Indian  sugar,  bathed 
with  the  sweat  and  blood  of  negroes.  They  signed  the 
petitions  to  parliament  to  put  a  stop  to  the  barbarous 
custom,  in  use  at  Malabar  and  other  provinces  subject 
to  the  English  government  in  India,  of  the  widows  burn- 
ing  themselves  to  death  on  the  funeral  piles  of  their  hus- 
bands. When  the  Greeks  in  the  first  years  of  their  revo- 
lution were  in  want  of  powder,  of  bread,  and  even  of  salt, 
the  quakers  were  the  first  to  collect  for  their  assistance 
nine  thousand  pounds  sterling.  They  form  the  (unarmed) 
vanguard  of  every  philanthropic  enterprise.  The  best 
English  grammar  was  composed  by  a  quaker,  Mr.  Mur- 
ray. The  schools  of  mutual  instruction  were  invented 
by  Mr.  Lancaster,  and  Mr.  Allen  made  the  discovery 
known,  thus  spreading  through  all  Europe  as  it  were  a 
vaccination  against  ignorance.  The  infant  schools  are 
now  kept  in  life  by  the  quakers.  The  discipline  of  the 
prisons  continually  occupies  the  attention  of  the  sect. 
But  I  wish  to  point  out  another  improvement  originating 
in  them,  and  which  has  not  perhaps  yet  been  sufficiently 
talked  of  in  Europe,  although  it  forms  the  admiration  of 
all  the  travellers  in  England. 


IN  ENGLAND.  2 1  1 


THE   RETREAT, 

OR  LUNATIC  ASYLUM,  NEAR  YORK. 


I  shall  never  be  weary  of  repeating  that  England  is  a 
country  rather  to  make  observations,  than  to  seek  amuse- 
ment in; — it  is  a  great  scientific  treatise.  Its  theatres 
are  the  arsenals  of  Deptford  and  Portsmouth,  or  the  East 
and  West  India  docks ;  its  paintings  are  the  manufac- 
tures of  Glasgow,  of  Manchester,  of  Leeds,  of  Halifax ; 
its  coliseums,  arches,  and  arenas,  are  its  smoky  shops 
and  factories,  with  which  whole  provinces  are  covered ; 
its  ctiamps-elysees  are  the  iron  mines  of  Wales,  the  tin 
mines  of  Cornwall,  the  coal  mines  of  Newcastle.  Eng- 
land is  not  the  island  of  Alcina,  where  the  inhabitants 
pass  their  days  in  song  and  careless  laughter,  to  become 
afterwards  plants  and  beasts.  Let  us  remember,  that  the 
English  are  the  men  of  Europe.  They  laugh  little  (per- 
haps too  little),  but  they  study  instead  how  to  render  life 
as  little  unhappy  as  possible,  and  to  tame  and  educate 
the  great  beast,  mankind. 

I  have  often  found  it  useful  to  confront  the  opinion  of 
some  writer  on  public  economy,  with  the  example  on  a 
grand  scale,  which  England  presents  on  almost  every 
point  of  the  science.  I  remember,  for  instance,  that 
Ricci  says,  in  a  passage  of  his  valuable  work  on  "  Cha- 
ritable Establishments,"  that  there  is  no  country  in  the 
world,  where  on  an  equal  area  there  are  so  many  insti- 


212  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

tutions  of  public  beneficence  as  in  the  city  of  Modena. 
Now  I  am  at  this  very  time  in  a  city  of  England, — York, 
— so  full  of  pious  institutions,  hospitals,  gratuitous  dis- 
pensaries, and  especially  orphan  houses  and  free  schools, 
that  I  should  be  very  much  surprised,  if,  comparing  the 
small  area  of  this  city  of  twenty  thousand  inhabitants 
with  that  of  Modena,  it  did  not,  on  this  merit,  far  surpass 
it.  But,  setting  aside  this  partial  comparison,  and  extend- 
ing it,  instead,  between  the  whole  of  the  island  and  an 
equal  superficies  of  Italy,  I  am  certain  that  the  last 
would  be  transferred  to  England.  [I  do  not  mean  to 
speak  of  Ireland,  which  is  now  unjustly  paying  back  a 
part  of  the  evils  and  persecutions  the  catholics  once  made 
the  protestants  suffer.]  It  swarms  with  hospitals,  retreats, 
infirmaries,  asylums,  colleges,  and  schools,  maintained  at 
private  expense,  and  conducted  according  to  the  direc- 
tion of  the  benefactors.  I  have  visited  numbers,  but  I 
shall  not  attempt  to  describe  them.  An  estimable  friend 
of  mine,  Count  Arrivabene,  of  Mantua,  has  already  for 
two  years  given  himself  up  with  ardour  to  this  under- 
taking. I  could  never  hope  to  equal,  much  less  to  sur- 
pass, the  diligence  and  the  fervour  he  has  expended  on  a 
work,  in  which  his  intellect  is  seconded  and  strengthened 
by  his  heart.  As,  however,  I  had  opportunities,  in  the 
course  of  my  long  residence  at  York,  of  examining  at- 
tentively the  Retreat,  or  Lunatic  Hospital,  erected  there 
by  the  quakers,  thirty  years  ago,  I  hope  my  friend  will 
pardon  me  if  I  trespass  a  little  on  his  jurisdiction. 

I  confess,  then,  that  one  of  my  inducements  to  speak 
of  it  arises  from  the  disgustful  recollection  which 

"  With  fright 
Still  bathes  my  heart  in  sweat," 

implanted  in  my  mind  by  the  hospital  outside  the  gates 


IN  ENGLAND.  213 

of  Milan,  called  La  Senavra ;  and  by  that  of  the  Bicetre, 
a  short  distance  from  Paris.  Let  not  this  observation  be 
taken  in  ill  part:  I  do  not  wish  to  make  it  a  reflection  on 
either  France  or  Italy ;  for  in  England  itself,  establish- 
ments of  this  kind,  in  times  past,  were  conducted  in  a 
most  shameful  manner ;  so  that,  although  their  govern- 
ment has  been  ameliorated  for  some  years,  complaints 
are  even  now  brought  before  parliament  of  the  ill  usage 
of  persons  in  these  asylums.  It  is  only  thirty  years  since 
a  more  enlightened  philanthropy  has  corrected  their 
errors,  and  suppressed  their  abuses.  It  was  the  Retreat 
of  York  that  set  the  example  of  a  better  considered 
humanity,  and  served  as  a  model  for  the  reforms  which 
were  afterwards  eagerly  introduced  in  the  other  hospi- 
tals. It  was  a  novelty  (I  say  it  in  the  teeth  of  those 
Turco-Christian  governments  which  love  not  novelties) 
that  effected  such  extensive  good.  This  is  the  principal 
reason  for  which  I  esteem  it  not  unuseful  to  give  a  few 
heads  of  the  system.  I  am  not,  however,  the  first  to 
speak  of  it.  M.  Delarive,  a  medical  man  of  Geneva,  gave 
a  description  of  it  in  1798,  in  the  "  Bibliotheque  Britan- 
nique ;"  but  the  establishment  was  then  in  ks  infancy, — 
it  had  been  in  existence  only  two  years.  It  afterwards 
underwent  some  additions  to  the  buildings,  and  some 
variations  in  the  regimen ;  it  will  not,  therefore,  be  a  use- 
less or  presumptuous  repetition  to  relate  the  results  con- 
firmed by  thirty  years  experience. 

It  is  a  real  phenomenon  of  human  nature,  that  the 
English,  who  are  distinguished  among  other  nations  for 
solid  reason,  should  be  the  most  subject  to  the  loss  of  it. 
Madness,  that  terrible  malady  which  destroys  the  most 
important  of  all  health — that  of  the  mind,  attacks  almost 
every  class  in  England.  The  last  king,  George  the  Third, 
lost,  from  time  to  time,  the  use  of  reason ;  Castlereagh, 
one  of  his  ministers,  killed  himself  in  a  fit  of  frenzy ;  the 


214  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

eloquent  Romilly,  through  the  same  malady,  destroyed 
his  own  life ;  Cowper,  one  of  the  sweetest  poets  in  Eng- 
land,— Collins,  one  of  the  best  lyrists, — and  Swift,  a  very 
witty  writer  both  in  prose  and  verse,  were  subject  to  at- 
tacks of  melancholy,  a  conventional  term  to  veil  the  hor- 
ror that  the  name  of  madness  inspires.  Most  of  the 
suicides  committed  in  the  foggy  month  of  November, 
and  even  in  other  months,  are  occasioned  by  strong  fits 
of  gloom.  It  is  hard  to  say  what  is  the  average  number 
of  persons  thus  afflicted  in  England,  because  the  govern- 
ment does  not  maintain  a  central  office  of  statistics,  as  in 
France ;  but,  from  what  I  have  under  my  own  eye,  I  am 
able  to  say  that  there  are,  in  the  city  in  which  I  write, 
two  hundred  and  fifty  insane  persons,  in  two  different 
hospitals,  collected  from  a  population  of  400,000  souls. 
The  number  will  appear  very  great,  especially  when  it  is 
considered,  that,  besides  these  hospitals,  there  are  many 
private  mad-houses,  the  number  of  patients  in  which  I 
cannot  state. 

The  Englishman,  so  steeled  against  every  sort  of  dan- 
ger, cannot  sustain  the  weight  of  misfortune,  or  some- 
times even  that  of  weariness ;  one  of  them  killed  himself 
because  he  could  not  endure  the  bore  of  dressing  and  un- 
dressing every  day.  An  Englishman  can  remain  two 
years  on  board  a  vessel  on  a  cruise,  without  being  tired, 
because  he  is  taken  up  with  the  delight  of  consulting  the 
winds  and  waves,  and  with  the  enemies  of  his  country. 
In  a  storm,  no  man  is  more  fearless,  patient,  and  endur- 
ing— he  is  more  than  a  man.  But  when  the  stoical 
courage  of  suffering  is  required,  without  the  stimulus  of 
danger  or  exertion,  he  is  less  than  other  men.  However 
much  the  Bible  may  be  read  in  England,  the  example  of 
Job  has  made  few  converts  there.  Thus  love,  which  we 
look  upon  as  a  sort  of  game  at  blind-man's-buff,  soon 
turns  the  brain  of  an  Englishman ;  unaccustomed  to  any 


IN  ENGLAND.  215 

of  the  passions,  his  heart  easily  surrenders  at  the  assault 
of  one  of  them,  as  those  who  live  too  long  in  peace  do  not 
know  how  to  go  to  war;  or,  as  he  who  is  not  used  to  wine, 
becomes  intoxicated  with  but  a  little.  It  is,  perhaps,  be- 
cause alienation  of  mind  is  so  frequent  a  malady  in  their 
country  that  the  English  writers  paint  it  so  excellently. 
The  feigned  insanity  of  Hamlet  and  the  true  madness  of 
King  Lear,  are  perhaps  two  of  the  finest  and  most  inimi- 
table pictures  in  Shakspeare.  Almost  every  poet  has  the 
description  of  a  lunatic  :  Crabbe  has  his  Thomas  Grey ; 
Cowper  his  wandering  girl  of  the  mountain,  who,  be- 
trayed by  a  sailor,  and  bereft  of  reason,  passes  the  time 
filling  her  sleeve  with  pins.  The  madness  of  the  father 
of  Agnes,  in  Paer's  opera,  is  taken  from  a  novel  of  Mrs. 
Opie,  of  Norwich.  Who,  too,  does  not  recollect  the  poor 
Maria  described  by  Sterne,  mad  for  love,  with  her  little 
dog  always  by  her  side,  the  only  being  in  the  world  who 
had  remained  faithful  to  her  ? 

Great,  therefore,  is  the  number  of  asylums  erected  in 
all  parts  of  England  for  the  reception  of  these  unfor- 
tunates ;  some  of  them  are  answerable  to  the  opulence  of 
the  nation,  as  the  New  Bethlem  of  London,  a  vast  and 
magnificent  edifice.  But  the  most  magnificent  in  appear- 
ance are  not  always  the  best  managed  establishments, 
still  less  those  which  contain  large  numbers  of  patients  ; 
this  is  become  a  general  principle  in  charitable  institu- 
tions of  every  sort — magnificence  brings  on  expensive- 
ness  ;  great  numbers,  negligence. 

Let  not  the  traveller,  then,  expect  to  see  in  the  Retreat 
a  palace  with  Corinthian  columns,  superb  peristyle,  and 
other  superfluous  ornaments.  The  Retreat  has  in  its 
look  the  modesty  of  beneficence ;  it  resembles  the  country 
house  of  some  private  individual  not  fond  of  luxury  or 
pomp;  it  has  all  the  simplicity  of  its  founders,  the 
quakers.  To  tell  the  truth,  its  form  is  somewhat  irregu- 


216  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

lar ;  the  interior  compartments  might  be  better  arranged, 
the  staircases  more  simple,  the  passages  better  ventilated 
and  more  cheerful ;  its  architecture  at  least  will  not  serve 
for  a  model.  It  was  designed  at  first  as  a  receptacle  for 
only  thirty  quakers,  and  having  been  afterwards  enlarged, 
to  meet  the  increased  demand,  the  additions  spoiled  its 
symmetry,  and  produced  defects  which  did  not  exist  in 
the  original  design.  At  present  the  number  of  patients 
amounts  to  eighty.  The  hospitals  afterwards  erected 
elsewhere,  have  been  built  in  a  better  and  more  orna- 
mental style,  without  being  too  luxurious. 

The  situation  of  the  Retreat,  however,  compensates 
fully  for  the  inconvenience  of  its  plan.  It  is  seated  on  an 
eminence,  about  half  a  mile  from  the  city,  and  at  much 
the  same  distance  from  the  river  Ouse.  In  front,  an  agree- 
able prospect  opens,  of  a  fertile  plain,  scattered  here  and 
there  with  clumps  of  trees ; — and,  towards  the  northeast, 
a  chain  of  hills  at  the  distance  of  twenty-five  miles,  closes 
the  horizon.  Every  thing  in  the  house  breathes  the  same 
simplicity,  cordiality,  order,  and  quietness,  which  reign 
in  private  families.  When  I  was  there,  the  superintend- 
ent himself  had  the  kindness  to  accompany  me  through- 
out, and  to  satisfy  all  my  enquiries. 

Commencing  from  the  door,  I  could  perceive  nothing 
to  awaken  the  idea  of  a  prison :  no  window  bars,  no  iron 
gates,  no  guards.  On  the  contrary,  I  found  that  every 
idea  even  of  seclusion  is  removed.  At  the  entrance  I  met 
some  female  servants,  buxom  and  gay,  with  the  most 
florid  health  imprinted  on  their  cheeks.  I  was  intro- 
duced into  a  reception  room,  on  the  ground  floor,  as  clean 
and  well  furnished  as  that  of  an  English  gentleman.  I 
visited  the  whole  of  the  hospital,  from  top  to  bottom,  cast- 
ing a  curious  eye  through  all  the  chambers,  and  I  saw 
neither  chains,  nor  iron  bars : — I  heard  no  cries,  no  howl- 
ing, no  lamentations, — all  was  in  the  utmost  neatness, 


IN  ENGLAND.  217 

no  bad  smell,  and  every  where  the  most  perfect  ventila- 
tion. Out  of  about  eighty  patients,  male  and  female, 
there  was  not  one  in  a  state  of  coercion.  Let  the  reader 
be  assured,  that  in  this  I  do  not  use  false  colours  or  ex- 
aggerations :  in  this  matter,  truth  is  a  duty  more  than 
ever  sacred! 

In  the  day,  each  sex  has  two  court  yards  to  walk  in, 
and  two  rooms  to  meet  in,  with  a  fire,  surrounded  by  a 
guard,  shut  at  top  like  a  cage,  to  prevent  any  accident, 
but  the  windows  are  not  grated.  In  the  sitting  room  of 
the  quiet  mad  people,  they  are  three  feet  and  a  half  wide, 
and  six  feet  high,  with  the  panes  fixed  in  sashes  of 
painted  iron,  instead  of  lead ;  the  only  precaution  taken, 
and  a  most  judicious  one.  In  the  room  set  apart  for 
the  raving,  who  never  exceed  seven  or  eight  out  of 
eighty,  the  glass  windows  are  doubled,  and  four  feet  and 
a  quarter  from  the  ground,  to  take  away  from  the  patients 
too  ready  an  opportunity  of  breaking  them,  or  injuring 
themselves.  These  windows  are  so  contrived,  that  while 
they  admit  air  and  afford  security,  they  bear  the  ap- 
pearance of  common  windows, — an  innocent  and  salutary 
deception,  since  it  conduces  to  quiet  the  imagination. 
The  danger  incurred  in  similar  hospitals  from  the  furious 
efforts  of  these  unhappy  beings,  has  been  exaggerated  : 
the  error  always  committed,  is  the  believing  human  na- 
ture to  be  worse  than  it  is :  hence  sharp  and  violent 
measures  have  been  resorted  to,  which  only  tend  to  irritate 
it,  and  make  it  become  really  bad.  In  England,  the 
opposite  system,  that  of  mildness,  is  practised,  not  only 
with  children,  not  only  with  kings  and  madmen,  but 
even  with  animals,  and  especially  horses.  The  good 
results  leave  no  longer  any  doubt  which  of  these  methods 
is  preferable.  In  respect  to  madmen,  it  is  now  confirmed 
by  experience,  that  not  only  are  severe  and  coercive 
methods  pernicious,  but  that  it  is  necessary  to  withdraw 
19 


218  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

from  the  senses  and  the  imagination  even  the  idea  of 
rigour,  much  more  that  of  chains  and  imprisonment. 
The  average  number  of  madmen  restrained  with  cords 
or  strait  waistcoats  rarely  exceeds  two.  In  cases  of 
raving  madness,  the  patient  is  merely  shut  up  in  a  dark 
and  quiet  room,  that  he  may  be  deprived  of  the  excite- 
ments of  light  and  sound,  besides  that  of  external  objects, 
which  are  apt  to  heat  the  fancy.  Solitary  confinement 
in  darkness  is  an  efficacious  remedy,  already  tried  with 
good  success  in  the  prisons  of  Philadelphia  (which  were 
also  established  by  a  quaker,  with  a  new  code  of  regula- 
tions,) to  soften  the  spirit  of  incorrigible  criminals.  This 
isolation  disposes  the  maniac  to  sleep,  and,  if  he  shows 
no  disposition  to  suicide,  the  strait  waistcoat  is  not  put 
on,  and  he  can  walk  about  and  extend  himself  at  will 
upon  his  bed.  Those  amongst  them  who  are  disposed 
to  suicide,  are  in  the  day  time  restrained  by  a  strait 
waistcoat,  and  in  the  night  tied  down  in  their  beds,  but 
so  that  they  can  freely  turn  themselves.  This  bed  is  so 
ingenious,  that  I  am  sorry  it  cannot  be  well  described  in 
words. 

When  I  entered  the  sitting  rooms,  some  were  playing, 
some  reading,  some  writing ;  while  others  were  collected 
about  the  guard  surrounding  the  fire.  In  the  women' s 
rooms,  most  of  the  inmates  were  at  work,  and  a  person 
coming  in,  without  being  apprised  beforehand,  would 
believe  himself  at  first  among  persons  of  sound  mind,  so 
complete  are  the  decorum  and  tranquillity  which  the 
matron  knows  how  to  preserve. 

The  patients  who  are  well  off  have  separate  and  more 
elegant  rooms,  and,  instead  of  the  court  yard,  a  garden 
to  walk  in.  They  had  in  their  apartments  both  news- 
papers and  books;  one  of  them  was  contemplating  a 
portrait,  which  he  had,  he  told  me,  drawn  at  midnight ; 
it  was  that  of  his  Dulcinea.  Showing  it  to  me,  he 


IN  ENGLAND.  219 

asked  if  I  did  not  recognise  it,  and  I  did  not  hesitate  to 
reply  in  the  affirmative.  He  was  a  well  dressed  young 
man  of  good  address, — one  of  the  many  victims  of  love. 
He  took  my  arm,  and  led  me  to  walk  with  him  in  the 
garden,  asked  me  the  news,  and,  afterwards,  whenever 
walking  with  his  keeper  in  the  public  road,  was  sure  to 
recognise  me,  and  stopped  to  bid  me  good  day.  I  saw 
also  in  the  distance  a  man  who,  although  it  was  the 
month  of  December,  was  digging  the  ground  with  all 
his  might  with  a  pickaxe.  I  asked  the  superintendent 
who  he  was,  and  he  told  me  he  was  a  farmer,  very 
skilful  in  agriculture,  who  always  recovered  by  labour 
the  use  of  reason,  which  deserted  him  almost  periodically 
every  two  or  three  years.  These  two  examples  are 
neither  very  extraordinary  nor  very  interesting,  but  I 
have  adduced  them  to  show  most  decidedly,  that  in  the 
regimen  pursued  at  the  Retreat,  there  is  nothing  com- 
plicated, metaphysical,  or  transcendental :  but  that  every 
thing  depends  on  making  the  patients  believe  that  they 
are  in  a  place  of  quietness,  and  among  friends,  just  as  if 
they  had  gone  into  the  country  for  the  benefit  of  their 
health. 

Besides  the  pleasure  ground,  there  is  a  kitchen  garden, 
which  supplies  them  with  vegetables.  The  most  re- 
spectable (and  those  who  once  were,  but  are  so  no  longer) 
dine  with  the  superintendent,  and  many  of  the  women 
dine  with  the  matron.  This  confidence  contributes 
greatly  to  keep  them  in  order,  and  conduct  them  back 
to  decorum.  The  diet  is  simple  and  abundant, — the 
superintendent  is  also  the  apothecary  of  the  hospital. 
He  is  a  very  courteous  quaker,  and,  after  having  satisfied 
my  curiosity  on  all  points,  offered  to  lend  me  Mr.  Tuke's 
book,  in  which  that  gentleman, — another  quaker, — gives 
a  succinct  history  of  the  establishment  up  to  the  year 


220  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

1813.  I  recommend  the  perusal  of  this  most  judicious 
work  to  all  medical  men,  and  directors  of  charitable  in- 
stitutions ;  it  contains  only  about  three  hundred  pages, 
and  costs  no  more  than  four  or  five  shillings. 


IN  ENGLAND.  221 


GENERAL    OBSERVATIONS. 


1st.  The  great  merit  of  this  establishment  is,  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  treatment.  I  never  saw  that  of  Aversa,  in 
the  kingdom  of  Naples,  but,  from  what  I  have  read  of  it, 
it  appears  to  me  that  the  wonderful  cures  effected  there, 
are  rather  to  be  attributed  to  the  wisdom  and  sagacity 
of  the  director,  than  to  the  method,  which  is  not  very 
easy  of  imitation;  in  fact,  it  has  never  yet  been  imitated, 
that  I  know  of.  On  the  contrary,  the  system  followed 
in  the  retreat  at  York,  is  so  easy,  is  so  completely  the 
invention  of  good  sense  alone,  that  every  intelligent  man 
is  capable  of  following  it.  This  is  the  incomparable  ad- 
vantage of  all  the  English  institutions  ;  that  nation  does 
not  run  after  the  difficult  or  the  extravagant,  but  the 
useful.  Hence,  instead  of  the  complicated  system  of 
Pestalozzi,  in  popular  education,  it  adopted  that  of  schools 
of  mutual  instruction ;  thus,  in  manufactures,  it  lets  its 
neighbours  make  the  gorgeous  gobelins,  the  brilliant 
bijouteries, — articles  of  fancy,  while  it  cultivates  the 
manufactures  that  supply  the  world  with  clothing.  A 
system,  a  method,  an  invention  of  any  kind  whatever, 
when  it  is  not  adapted  for  common  use,  and  demands  in 
its  execution  more  than  an  ordinary  capacity  (which  is 
the  gift  of  few,  very  few,)  may  be  a  wonder  of  the  world, 
and  the  glory  of  an  individual,  but  will  not  increase  the 
19* 


222  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE 

wealth  or  happiness  of  a  nation.  The  system,  however, 
of  the  Retreat,  from  its  facility  and  simplicity,  has  been 
adopted  withont  difficulty  by  many  similar  establish- 
ments in  England :  it  has  been  the  model  after  which 
many  other  hospitals  have  corrected  their  numerous  and 
almost  incredible  abuses.  The  hospital  that  succeeded 
best  in  its  imitations  (and  perhaps  surpassed  the  original,) 
is*  that  called  the  "  Lunatic  Asylum,"  which  in  1774 
was  built,  also  near  the  city  of  York,  as  a  hospital  for 
the  insane  of  a  part  of  the  county.  The  old  building 
being  burnt,  and  a  new  one  about  to  be  erected  in  1814, 
and  it  being  desired  at  the  same  time  to  suppress  all 
the  abuses  of  the  old  administration,  and  the  errors  of 
the  old  method,  that  of  the  quakers  was  taken  as  a  pat- 
tern, not  less  of  economy,  than  the  treatment  of  the 
patients.  This  other  hospital  contains  one  hundred  and 
thirty  madmen.  The  traveller  will  be  surprised  at  the 
view  of  this  building,  at  the  walks  shaded  by  old  and 
branching  trees  which  surround  it,  at  the  beautiful  in- 
ternal galleries,  at  the  cheerful  rooms ;  but  he  should  not 
forget,  that  this  establishment,  such  as  it  is,  would  not 
have  existed  but  for  the  p re-existence  "of  that  of  the 
quakers.  At  one  time,  when  darkness,  chains,  and  pun- 
ishments, were  used  as  the  means  of  cure,  it  seemed  as 
if  madmen  (as  the  physician  Delarive  wittily  observed) 
had  invented  that  method  as  a  cure  for  their  fellow  mad- 
men. In  this  hospital  for  the  county  of  York,  when  the 
conflagration  happened,  two  madmen  were  burnt  to 
death,  who  could  not  make  their  escape  in  consequence 
of  their  being  chained.  What  first  made  the  quakers 
in  1798  determine  on  building  a  hospital  for  their  own 
insane,  was  the  death  of  an  individual  of  their  sect  in  the 
county  hospital,  from  ill  treatment  and  neglect.  If  mild- 
ness has  been  substituted  for  barbarity,  a  reasonable 
and  economical  system  for  a  strange  and  expensive  one, 


0  ENGLAND.  223 

let  the  traveller  recollect  that  the  merit  is  due  to  the 
Quakers'  Retreat,  obscure  in  outward  appearance,  but 
not  yet  surpassed  in  intrinsic  excellence. 

2d.  Owing  to  the  economy  with  which  the  Retreat 
is  managed,  it  is  now  able  to  support  itself.  The  other 
York  hospital,  on  the  same  plan,  has  also  always  an  an- 
nual surplus,  which  enables  it  to  enlarge  its  buildings,  to 
grant  entirely  gratuitous  admissions  to  several  poor 
patients,  and  to  remain  independent  of  the  casual  libe- 
rality of  extraordinary  legacies  and  donations. 

In  this  most  important  point  of  view,  the  charitable 
establishments  on  the  continent  are  in  general  exposed 
to  two  inconveniences, — the  difficulty  of  finding  a  gene- 
rous benefactor  to  furnish  not  only  a  sufficient  capital  to 
build  the  edifice,  but  to  endow  it  with  an  annual  revenue 
for  the  support  of  the  patients.  And  where  such  a  dona- 
tion is  made,  it  is  generally  in  prejudice  of  the  relations, 
who  are  defrauded  of  their  expected  inheritance,  so  that, 
in  many  states,  the  law  has  very  providently  stepped  in 
to  put  an  end  to  such  largesses.  These  two  inconve- 
niences disappear  where  an  arrangement  has  been  adopted 
by  which  an  annual  income  greater  than  the  expense  is 
produced.  This  well-judged  economy  is  still  limited, 
even  in  England,  to  the  hospitals  for  the  insane.  The 
hospitals  for  other  maladies  (to  which  the  admissions  are 
all  gratuitous)  are  maintained  in  great  part  by  annual 
subscriptions, — I  say  in  great  part,  because  some  of  them 
are  in  the  enjoyment  of  ancient  bequests.  But  even  this 
second  method  of  annual  subscriptions  is  preferable  to 
that  of  a  revenue  derived  from  donations  and  legacies. 
Besides  the  great  good  of  preventing  disinheritances,  it 
has  the  advantage  of  a  better  ordered  economy,  because 
all  those  interested  (that  is,  all  the  annual  subscribers) 
keep  a  watch  over  it ;  and  it  has  the  other  not  less 
valuable  advantage,  of  keeping  the  sentiment  of  com- 


224  THE    ITALIAN    EXILE 

passion  alive  and  active.  The  annual  subscribers  are 
easily  found  in  England.  As  it  is  the  custom  there  to 
board  and  lodge  the  footmen  and  maid  servants  in  the 
master's  house,  whenever  one  of  them  falls  ill,  the  master, 
if  he  is  a  subscriber,  shares  the  expense  of  taking  care 
of  him,  by  sending  him  to  the  hospital,  which  for  neat- 
ness, quiet,  order,  and  sometimes  for  elegance,  may  vie 
with  a  gentleman's  house. 

3d.  The  government  of  England  has  no  voice  in  the 
administration  of  the  institutions  of  public  beneficence. 
It  neve?  interferes,  except  when  the  protection  of  per- 
sonal liberty  is  in  question,  as  it  has  often  occurred,  that, 
in  consequence  of  complaints  of  the  cruelties  practised 
in  private  or  public  madhouses,  it  has  ordered  special 
investigations, — by  which  the  regulation  was  introduced, 
that  no  patient  can  be  received  into  a  madhouse,  without 
a  certificate  from  the  medical  attendant,  who  is  respon- 
sible for  giving  it.  In  short,  in  England,  benevolence  is 
free,  it  is  only  malevolence  that  is  enslaved. 

4th.  In  this  country  every  thing  is  public,  and  good 
actions  have  a  public  recompense.  For  this  reason,  the 
donations  made  to  hospitals  are  inscribed  in  letters  of 
gold  on  their  walls.  When  you  enter  the  spacious  hos- 
pital for  the  insane  called  New  Bethlem,  you  see  on  a 
great  black  table  (to  make  the  better  display),  written 
in  large  gilt  letters,  the  name  of  every  benefactor,  and 
the  sum  he  contributed.  The  same  black  tables  orna- 
ment the  walls  of  the  beautiful  hospital  of  Derby,  which 
I  advise  every  traveller  to  visit,  to  see  how  the  most 
useful  discoveries  in  physic  and  mechanics  have  been 
applied  to  the  comfort  of  the  poorest  classes.  The  cus- 
tom of  taking  the  benefactor's  portrait,  observed  at  Milan, 
would  be  still  more  flattering  to  human  vanity,  and 
would  be  worthy  of  approbation,  if  confined  to  those  who 
give  in  their  lifetime,  and  not  extended  to  those  who, 


IN  ENGLAND.  225 

from  revenge  or  superstition,  give  away  at  their  death 
what  they  can  no  longer  carry  with  them. 

5th.  The  average  term  for  a  cure  in  the  Retreat  is  six 
months,  when  the  disease  is  not  organic  (that  is,  here- 
ditary.) The  expedition  of  the  cure,  and  the  mildness 
of  the  method,  are  perhaps  to  be  attributed  to  the  softened 
character  of  madness  in  England.  Education  and  the 
climate  render  it  leas  violent  than  in  hot  climates,  and 
among  those  nations  where  the  passions  of  men  are 
continually  irritated.  The  difference  is  visible  in  the 
paroxysms  of  anger,  and  above  all  in  intoxication.  The 
drunken  Englishman  grows  sleepy  and  falls  as  if  dead  in 
the  middle  of  the  street,  without  annoying  any  body : 
the  native  of  the  south,  influenced  with  wine,  insults, 
menaces,  fights,  becomes  worse  than  a  Rodomont,  and 
by  himself  alone  wakens  up  a  whole  street.  It  must 
then  be  expected,  that  this  same  method,  adopted  in  hot 
countries,  will  not  have  so  ready  and  happy  a  success 
as  in  England.  But  it  will  not  for  all  that,  be  any  the 
less  the  most  excellent  of  all  the  methods  hitherto  in  use. 
All  remedies,  according  to  climates  or  temperaments,  have 
more  or  loss  of  efficacy;  but  they  do  not  alter  their 
nature. 

,  6th.  The  remark  made  by  Locke,  among  many  others, 
on  children,  that  mildness  rules  them  better  than  rigour, 
has  contributed  to  suggest,  by  analogy,  the  method  to 
be  pursued  by  those,  who,  having  lost  the  guidance  of 
reason,  have  arrived  at  a  second  childhood.  Cannot, 
then,  this  same  method  be  applied,  by  analogy  again,  to 
nations,  to  sects,  to  factions,  when  they  are  overcome  by 
the  strength  of  the  passions,  and  fall  into  delirium  ?  If, 
instead  of  tortures,  of  funeral  piles,  of  confiscations,  and 
of  scaffolds, — mildness,  humanity  and  reason,  were  em- 
ployed to  assuage  the  passions  of  the  multitude,  how 


226  THE  ITALIAN  EXILE  IN  ENGLAND. 

much  less  had  been  the  number  of  martyrs  of  religious 
intolerance,  of  political  assassinations,  of  the  crimes  and 
horrors,  that  have  disgraced  and  imbrued  in  blood  the 
human  race ! 


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